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CHEMISTRY SET

So this was it: the unanticipated invitation to meet the man from IA, here in Dobey's office. Being propositioned. Opportunity knocks

Dobey had said little beyond suggesting that if he wanted more time to think about it, another meeting could be set up some day soon -- tomorrow maybe. Anything, it seemed, might be fixed so that he should not miss this chance of a lifetime.

It was routine, Hutch knew, that personal files and bio-sheets were being constantly scrutinized, brought up-to-date, added to, sometimes with their knowledge, often without it...the detailed noting of merit and potential, or of less positive qualities, all the vital statistics which Authority decreed should be placed on record.

So why be surprised that IA should know so much about him? -- should be taking this interest in his achievements and his failures, his aspirations and his misfortunes...the story of his professional life over the past several years. They would have gone to Dobey first anyway. And Dobey would have given Preston a fair assessment.

"The Department is always looking for promising material," Preston stated precisely. "Not just cops who are good at their job, but people with some class."

Dobey cleared his throat, seemed about to speak, apparently thought better of it.

"With your background and your education," Preston continued, "you might go some way with us."

Still trying to get used to the idea, Hutch became aware that the other two were waiting for his own reaction to it. "Yeah -- well, thanks for the suggestion," he began. "Only I'm not sure it's my kind of scene...I mean, I like what we do now and I believe we're doing it okay -- there's been times we even got some commendations --" He half-turned to Dobey to back what he'd just said, wondering at that moment why he sounded as if he needed to justify what he did and why he did it, but the captain appeared to have adopted an observer's role....

On your own, Hutchinson. Nobody else's decision. Your very own unaided work. Make sure this is one answer you get absolutely right....

"We do a necessary job," he went on, turning back to the IA representative. Somehow, it was essential to make the point completely clear. "We know how --"

Preston cut in. "We -- ? I'm talking about you. It's your career that's on the line in this interview. And that's what you should be remembering, unless you're a lot less smart than we took you for. The department did go into this thoroughly. Don't you want to get ahead?"

For Preston it was a novel experience to encounter any response but total gratification on these occasions when he played God, offering promotion, a big step up the careers-ladder, to carefully-vetted candidates. Now, he was not trying to conceal the sense of almost personal grievance that this meeting, which he had sought, should be taking other than its predicted course.

He had spent time -- and his time, he was indicating, was more valuable than most people's -- going through record files. He had weighed possibilities. He had come to the magnanimous decision that this offer should be made. His script featured, as the next line, some devout expression of gratitude for benefits received. He didn't reckon on having his time wasted -- if he had chosen, who could fail to answer? This one, apparently, could. He saw the situation as a challenge to every management-skill his text-books had taught him.

"Sure I want to get ahead," Hutch was saying. "Make a success of what we do. Only I don't see myself fitting into that slot. Just wouldn't have the special talents, I guess...."

Was he being facetious? Preston sent a sharp look in his direction, failed to discern anything except the seriousness appropriate to the occasion.

"See, there's a lot of satisfaction in the work we do right now," Hutch told him, "and it's getting some fair results." He paused.

Again, from Dobey, no hint of confirmation or denial.

"And I put it to you that you're making a big mistake -- one you'll come to regret before long. You keep saying 'we'. I've read the files and I'll remind you that it's your future under discussion -- yours -- in the singular. I can guess what's in your mind, but police partnerships don't have to last forever...."

And that's true, Hutch thought. No new idea there. He pushed away the knowledge of the familiar possibility, realizing that Preston seemed more indignant than the situation warranted.... So? We were never that high on IA's party-list anyway.... He found no more to say until the lengthening silence prompted Preston's next ill-chosen comment.

"I'm warning you -- you could be sorry for this. Surely you can see it would be unfortunate to let yourself be held back -- let yourself get stuck with some second-rater who's just not in your own league. You owe it to yourself not to throw it all away."

Dobey was suddenly still, conscious of tensions engendered by Preston's words. Could Preston himself be so unaware?

Hutch spoke briefly and very much to the point, a little surprised to find that he was getting the words right, both clear and coherent, while half his mind was running on so many complex questions. He didn't want to make a speech: in one way, Preston simply wasn't worth it. And suddenly there was nothing to discuss. And yet things needed to be said. He wanted it over, to be out of this pointless discussion, getting on with some real work.

"I won't be throwing anything away," he said, "anything worth holding on to, that is. We're a good effective team...nobody could say different. We do a worthwhile job and a lot of the time we get it right -- and, okay, we care about it. I wouldn't want to change."

He'd made his point. Why go on with it?

Preston could recognize defeat when it was laid out in front of him. Besides, his schedule was running late. He hadn't figured this would take so long.

He spoke casually as he got to his feet, gathering up notes and papers from Dobey's desk. "He's lucky to have you to defend him," he remarked, adding, as he intercepted Hutch's unbelieving look. "That partner of yours, I mean...."

So it wasn't finished.

"Obviously," Hutch said carefully, "I'm not making myself clear. We both have work to do and I don't want to take up more of our time. But I'll just make two points -- okay?" He stopped, compelling Preston's attention. "Right. Point A -- you're talking about my partner and I'm not prepared to discuss him with you." He waited a beat and went on. "Then there's point B -- since you mention it. It's just that he doesn't need me to 'defend' him -- not from certain things. You may have read the records, but if you think that, you don't know him at all. Defending? I'll tell you he does a very competent job for himself in that line -- as necessary. For me too -- but that doesn't matter for now." He smiled reminiscently. "All I'm trying to tell you is I don't flatter myself I could change what's going on in your head, but I object to having to listen to it. That's on my own account -- not because I'm defending anyone. Clear?"

Speculatively, Preston's sour gaze rested on him. Hutch was strongly aware that what he said now would be remembered. More for the record.... He watched Preston register what he was saying, uncertain how Preston would word the inevitable report, but, with sudden insight, realizing a depth of personal resentment. It must have been rare that someone chosen to be groomed for stardom should have taken over the initiative like this, should have failed to pick up the proper cues.

Preston looked back at him searchingly. "You sound as if you had a lot of time for him," he commented with apparent carelessness. "Friend of yours...?"

"Yeah...." Hutch met the assessing glance. "I have that honor." Ignoring the other man, Hutch opened the door...find something to say, end this, get himself out of the room. "I'll get on with that case-sheet, okay?" he offered fatuously.

Dobey nodded, relaxing a little, as they emerged into the outer office. Starsky was there already, engaged in some rapid and unconventional typing. Preston paused beside him.

"Seems there are some people you can't help," he observed. "Your colleague here just turned down a really big opportunity -- sort that won't come around again, thinks your team-work is this nation's answer to the rising crime-rate."

Hutch listened, suspicious of the reasonable note that now came through in Preston's resigned tone. That was my decision if you're gonna try shifting responsibility next step in your game.... He was aware of Preston's smoldering anger, regarding him with an almost scientific detachment as the IA man was pushed by ill-temper into a final acrimonious remark.

"I can't say everyone has noticed anything special about this 'team'." He remained standing at the typist's side while Starsky, with a satisfied expression, rolled the papers from the machine. "He never even calls you by your first name."

Starsky considered this.

"Yeah," he said, "that's right." He turned to Hutch with an I-keep-telling-you air. "See? People notice."

Dobey shepherded Preston to the door as Hutch slid open the drawer of a filing cabinet. And what did that mean? He had seen enough of Preston to have tuned in to his particular brand of split-level conversation.

"Got those carbons in the right way around," Starsky informed the world-at-large in a pleased tone. "So -- what was all that about?"

"Job where they'd probably allow me a secretary for all this paper-work."

"What greater inducement are you waiting for? When d'you start?"

Hutch looked across at him. "I kinda like it here. Maybe I'm short on enterprise."

"The IA character seemed to think you were making a mistake." There was a pause. "Look -- I wouldn't want to louse up your career or anything...."

"That doesn't sound like you talking. And anyway, you know it's not like that."

"Oh, sure, I know. I mean -- how would you cope? But how about them? You wanna split?"

Hutch supposed the question had to be asked -- and answered. He shrugged, met the very direct gaze with a slight grin, as the earlier tension receded.

"Well, but I already told Dobey last week -- remember, when they were putting those new work schedules together. I said we'd go on the way we were. He'll have authorized all those new rotas now -- probably had them typed up, too, and you know we don't have enough typing help around here. Be very inconvenient for a lot of people if we change now. You have to consider other people a little...." His tone changed as he came to a stop. "Besides -- we're a set...okay?" In the short silence, the look held, but Hutch's smile of pure satisfaction was reflected now in his partner's expression. "Deal?" Hutch asked finally.

"Deal."

Their hands met suddenly in the reassuring clasp which was somehow part of the rightness they could both feel in the way the events of this particular morning had been worked out.

"Okay then," Starsky announced, "that's settled. How about we get an early lunch before Dobey dreams up something to keep us here for the next couple hours?" He appeared to be giving careful deliberation to some original concept. "Tell you what -- buy you a beer to mark your failure to achieve promotion."

"Impulse-buying, Starsk? You really thought about this?"

"Yeah...well -- it's just this once."

"Let's go."

Things were coming back to normal again. The jarring, off-key images of Preston's words were back in the perspective of Preston's distorted values and Hutch could see them as unimportant in the integrated context of a tried and enduring partnership. He would throw nothing away. Reality was recognizing what they had: contemptuous, uninformed comment could never hurt that living center. To discard something as spontaneous as they possessed in this life -- enhancing relationship -- how could Preston, or anyone, suppose that he would be so blind as to exchange this substance for that shadow? He knew nothing he had not known before, but he knew it at this moment, with a more intense clarity and awareness.

"You coming my way?" Starsky enquired from the door.

"Sure. And actually, you'd be better off with celery juice or something. You can't afford to lose muscle-tone in this line of work. Don't forget -- I depend on it -- you got a responsibility there. Your muscle-tone could be the one thing between me and something nasty."

Starsky waited indulgently for the speech to be finished, while Minnie looked up with a grin for them both.

"Can tell, can't you? He only wants you for your body, Starsky."

"So I better get it refueled then."

He courteously held open the door into the hallway for Hutch to precede him, and, without more talk, they headed for the elevator. Just like any other day, Hutch thought...but the morning's confrontation had thrown a spotlight on certain truths, leaving a more lucid and immediate knowledge than before...think about it later....

"You can drive if you like," Starsky suggested generously.

"Why? Oh. Haven't you finished that book yet?"

"Only want to see how this chapter ends. Won't take long. I'm a fast reader. You should read this -- did you know ---"

"Don't spoil it for me."

"I could just finish it on the way. Sooner I do, sooner you get to read it. I don't mind if you drive. Not really. Be concentrating on the book anyway. It's full of the most incredible--"

"Oh, get in."

So here we go...why does it work for us? Dobey knew it was the right choice...we do have something we're lucky to have...more than lucky.... Hutch glanced across at his engrossed partner. ...have to admit there's some things he sees faster than I do.

The keys were already in the ignition but before he turned on the engine, he glanced across at the passenger-seat. Starsky looked up from the page to give him a brief, brilliant smile, and, in its warmth, the cloud of the morning evaporated.

He smiled and started the car. Should have known. No need of any analytical discussion.

People notice, he thought. We do too.

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