Chapter 15

 

            The two men walked back toward the Torino.  Starsky knew Hutch had deliberately tried to throw the kidnapper off by misleading him about the car.  As they walked down the deserted sidewalk, the only sound Starsky heard was that of Bowman’s shoe heels clicking against the pavement. 

 

            “When I give ya the car, are you gonna tell me where my partner is?”

 

            “Why not?”  Bowman responded.  “I think it might be real cozy if I let you join them.”

 

            Starsky stopped mid-stride.  “You know if you kill a cop, you’re a dead man.”

 

            “Yeah, so your partner said.  Can you tell I’m real scared?”

 

            “Tell me where he is now, or I won’t take you to the car.”

 

            Anger flashed in Bowman’s eyes as he jammed the gun under Starsky’s chin.  “I’ve just about had it with you.  I may just blow your damn head off now and find the car for myself.”

 

            The sound was so low, Starsky thought he imagined it.  Then over Bowman’s shoulder, he saw Sam stealing up behind the man.  The hair on dog’s back stood straight up like the bristles on a wire brush, ears flattened against his head, giving him a dangerous, sleek appearance.  The growl grew louder, and the animal picked up speed, his lip curled back, baring gleaming, white teeth.

 

            Bowman spun around, leveling the gun at Sam’s head.  “What the hell...”

 

            Sam lunged, distracting the gunman, giving Starsky the opportunity to make his move.  Drawing the Smith & Wesson, he shouted, “Freeze, Bowman!  Sam, come!”  Sam stood frozen, a picture of primal, predatory instinct.  “Sam!”  Starsky shouted louder.  Slowly, reluctantly, the dog began to back down.  His need to tear out the enemy’s jugular vein was overpowered by his sense of duty to follow Starsky’s command. 

 

Bowman’s back was still turned to Starsky, afraid to take his eyes off Sam.  “Bowman, put the gun down.  Slow.”

 

            Torn between defending himself from the dog, or the cop pointing a gun at his back, Bowman made his move.  No time to think it through, just pure and simple reflex.  Thanks to the cop, the dog didn’t seem to as great a threat.  Bowman spun around and leveled the gun at Starsky’s chest.

 

            Seeing the kidnapper’s decision, Starsky shouted once more, “Freeze!” giving his opponent a final opportunity to surrender.  Bowman was fast, just not as fast as the detective.  Starsky didn’t aim for the heart, but when Bowman bolted and became a moving target, the bullet struck only one inch to the right of it. 

 

The thunder of the Smith and Wesson discharging was drowned out by a succession of large explosions ignited in the sector of buildings Hutch had been searching across the street.

 

            Shock and horror flashed across the faces of both men.  Starsky witnessed the life slowly ebbing from the other man’s face.  Bowman had no time to think of anything, as he drew his last breath.  He collapsed in a heap at Starsky’s feet, his eyes glazed, oblivious to the chain reaction he had ignited with a few sticks of strategically placed dynamite in the expertly wire buildings.

 

            Sam whined and clung to Starsky’s side, frightened by the sounds of the exploding buildings and the trembling street beneath their feet.

 

“Hutch...” Starsky barely whispered.  Realizing too late that he’d shot the only man who could lead him to his partner and the young kidnap victim, he dropped to his knees, grabbing the front of Bowman’s shirt and dragging him up, face to face.

 

            “Where is he, you bastard!  Where is he!”  Starsky shook the dead body violently, willing it back to life long enough to tell him where Hutch and Jenny were.  Bowman’s head fell back, exposing his glassy, blank eyes.  Starsky slowly released him, too stunned to think clearly what his next move should be.  Beside him, Sam whined and nudged at his knee.  Starsky laid a comforting arm around the dog and drew him close.  “I’ve really done it this time, boy.  I’ve probably just signed Hutch’s death warrant.”

 

Without considering the risk, Starsky made a mad dash to the pile of rubble which had, minutes ago been six large buildings.  Sam was his shadow, timing his steps to run along-side Starsky, looking up in anticipation of their next move.  Sam’s sixth sense told him something had happened to Hutch—something bad; so there was no way he would allow himself to be separated from Starsky now.

 

“Hutch!  Hutch!  Can you hear me?” Starsky ran the length of the sidewalk in front of the ruins.  There was no response; only the occasional popping and cracking as the damaged timbers gave way.  Remarkably, there was little fire, most likely because the electricity had been turned off and gas lines capped in preparation for the scheduled demolition.

 

Within minutes, Starsky heard sirens coming toward them.  Even so, he couldn’t stand by idly and wait.  Hutch and Jenny could be trapped and suffocating beneath the piles of rubble.  Starting at the far end, with the last building in the row, Starsky began picking his way through the fallen concrete and splintered timbers, calling out Hutch’s name and Jenny’s as he moved along.  Sam followed, uncertain of his goal, only knowing he needed to stick close to Starsky for the moment.

 

They’d scarcely covered a half of the first building when firefighters began arriving.  Starsky turned back and sought out the fire captain in charge of the mission, briefing him on the situation and alerting him of the two victims lost somewhere in the ruins.

 

            Captain Jacobson looked at the destruction before him.  He wanted to reassure Starsky his crew would find the two missing victims, but he was an honest and direct man by nature; and it went against his grain to offer promises he didn’t believe he could keep.

 

“Detective Starsky, we’ll do our best to find your partner, but I’m sure you realize the odds aren’t good, considering the extensive damage we’re facing here.”

 

            “Yeah, I hear what you’re sayin’; but you don’t know my partner.  If there’s any way possible to keep them alive, Hutch’ll find it.  We just need to get to ‘em before they run out of air.”  Sam whined and lifted his head beneath Starsky’s hand, soliciting a pat.

 

            “Is that a police dog you have there, detective?”

 

            “Who, Sam?  Nah.  He belongs to Hutch ‘n me, but he’s not a police dog.  We just started him in search and res—”

 

            Starsky’s words stopped mid-sentence.  “Jeez, why didn’t I think of that?”  He ran a hand through his hair nervously.  “I must be losin’ it.”

 

            “I don’t understand.  Losing what?”

 

            “I got’a go, Cap’n.  I need to get somethin’ out’a my car.”

 

            Starsky took off at a clip, running as fast as he could to the Torino, Sam hot on his heels.  When they reached the car, Starsky dove headfirst through the open window and snatched Hutch’s baseball jacket off the back seat.  Sam stood eagerly waiting for the car door to open so he could get in.

 

            Instead of letting him into the car, Starsky dropped to the ground, coming eye to eye with the rottweiler.  “Look what I got here, boy.  Know what this is?  Hmmm?  Do ya?”  He held the jacket close to the dog’s nose, turning it from side to side, giving Sam an opportunity to find Hutch’s scent.  “It’s Hutch’s, Sam.  Recognize it?”

 

            Sam sniffed and snorted into the fabric of the soft, over-worn jacket, recognizing the familiar scent of his other human—Hutch.  His tail beat excitedly, anticipating Hutch’s appearance at any minute.

 

            Starsky clasped Sam’s collar in his other hand and held the dogs face close, speaking in quiet, even sentences, willing the dog to understand his words.  “Take a good whiff, Sam,” he said gently.  “Hutch’s life may depend on what you and me do in the next few minutes.  Can ya smell his scent on here boy?”

 

            Sam listened intently, cocking his head to one side when he heard Hutch’s name.  Starsky raised the jacket to Sam’s nose as he talked to the dog.  “Can you find ‘em, boy?  Huh?  Can ya?  Hutch is counting on us to find ‘em.  Where’s Hutch?”

 

            Sam sniffed the jacket again; his excitement building as he immersed himself in the familiar, much loved scent.  Anxious for any link to his partner, Starsky’s hopes were buoyed when he realized Sam was forming a connection.  “That’s right, Big Dog.  We’re gonna find Hutch, okay?  I know if anybody can, you can,” Starsky encouraged.  Sam answered with a resonant woof, before charging off toward the collapsed buildings again, his nose to the ground, spurred on by Hutch’s scent.  Starsky gave him his freedom, and followed close behind.

 

            “Wait a minute!” the fire captain called from behind them.  “You can’t go back in there!  You could get hurt!”  His words fell on deaf ears.