Cops and Robbers - by Pho
part - 01
"PETER!" Strenlich's voice cleared the din of the squad room
without difficulty.
Peter Caine whirled in response to the Chief of Detectives' summons
and barely leaped out of the way in time to avoid the collapse of
the rickety table supporting the precinct's coffeemaker. "DAMN!"
He grabbed for the nearest available material and started mopping
his pants.
A slender hand yanked the cloth away, as an irate female voice
yelped, "PETER, that's my scarf!"
Turning as red as his pants were wet, Peter Caine mumbled an
apology, "Sorry, Jody."
"Thanks a lot Peter. This is silk! It has to be dry-cleaned."
"You dry-clean a scarf?" Peter was open-mouthed with surprise.
"Why not? YOU dry-clean ties."
"Valid point." The young detective conceded, "Bring me the bill,
I'll pay for it."
"Damn right you will." The blond grabbed her purse and left the
squad room. Peter sighed as he watched her leave, then started to
pick up the broken pieces of glass littering the floor.
Broderick wandered over and handed Peter a mop, broom and dustpan,
"It's all yours, Peter. Don't miss any glass."
"You're all heart, Sarge."
"Oh, and the new table, pot, coffee, and, let's see, yep, sugar
and creamer will be a welcome addition to the squad room."
"Sarge, surely you don't expect me to..."
"We all do, Peter, and get a larger pot this time. I hate it when
Blake makes the refills." Kermit didn't miss a stride as he vanished
into his office.
The young detective stared in shock at his 'friends', "B..But,
I didn't, it was..."
"CAINE!" The intensity of the summons grabbed Peter's attention.
"Coming, Chief!" Peter dropped the cleaning supplies and raced
across the room.
Strenlich looked at the young detective's pants, then raised his
eyes to the heavens, "Captain wants you."
Gulping, Peter nodded and headed for Karen Simms' door, desperately
trying to figure out what he'd done this time. Knocking, he winced
as he heard the angry voice call out, "ENTER!"
Bracing himself, Peter opened the door, "You wanted to see me,
Captain?"
"Yes, Detective, you're familiar with the...." Her voice faded
away as she saw his pants and her eyebrows arched. "Interesting."
"The table fell, Captain, but it wasn't my fault and the coffee
pot was full, and there's glass everywhere but I'm going to clean
it all up, as soon as I get out of here." "If I'm still alive,"
he added to himself.
"Yes, well, tell me if you recognize these people?" She thrust a
poor quality security cam shot towards her detective.
Peter stared at the picture for a moment, frowning. "I'm not
sure. It looks like THEM, sort of." His fist clinched involuntarily
as he glared at the image in his hand. The 'them' in question was
a team of thieves, who specialized in jewelry stores and terror.
They'd taken down six stores around town before disappearing completely. That alone would have put them high on the local wanted list, but
they'd killed a civilian in the last hold-up. The novice clerk had started work only that morning. Terrified of the robbers facing her, she'd panicked, knocking over a decorative planter in her efforts to
back away from the man holding the weapon. It had cost her, her life. Detective Peter Caine had been an unwilling witness to the aftermath
of the robbery.
Leaving work early to cash a check for a long weekend, Peter'd
walked past the jewelry store just as the robbers fled, stripping off
their masks as they ran. Barely avoiding taking a bullet himself,
he'd exchanged shots with the robbers, as they raced toward their
get-away car. The driver didn't wait, and the trio of robbers dove
through open windows, to a clean escape. Knowing he'd be unable to
reach the Stealth in time to pursue, Peter locked the tag number into his memory and raced into the store. To his mind he'd been unable to
do anything to help the mortally wounded clerk. The young Shaolin
cop had successfully transferred some of his chi to the dying girl,
allowing her to survive long enough to make it into surgery. She died
on the table less than thirty minutes after she'd arrived in the OR.
Peter's thoughts trailed back to his father's attempt to console him.
"Peter, you gave her the strength to reach the hospital, and the
time for her parents to say good-bye."
His fist slammed into the wall of his father's studio, "They shouldn't have had to say good-bye, Father. She was only twenty."
"Death knows no age, my son. It takes the old, and the young,
alike, without concern."
"Is that supposed to help, Father? More Shaolin 'wisdom'? What
good is my being able to transfer chi, if I can't do it right?"
"You did well, my son. Perhaps, your role was simply to allow her parents their final moments with a living child."
"It wasn't enough, Father, not nearly enough."
Internal Affairs had cleared him of any misconduct in the affair
but the beating he'd taken in the press had left a bitter taste in
his mouth. He wanted these vermin more than he could ever remember
wanting anything in his career. Peter blinked back the tears that
threatened to fall, cleared his throat and looked up to meet Karen
Simms' unwavering eyes.
"W..when?"
"Three days ago. I've received a formal request that you be
temporarily assigned to the case. You're the only one who's ever actually seen this crew, even if it was only briefly."
"Where?"
"San Francisco."
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part - 02 ↑
Peter Caine arrived at the airport two hours before his flight.
Nightmares had plagued what little sleep he'd had, the last one
sending him into his bathroom in a fit of vomiting. Collapsing
onto his sofa, he thought about the previous evening. Kwai Chang
Caine had been summoned to the side of the young emperor, three days
before. The lonely young man had grown weary of his advisors, and
guards, and had requested a visit from the Shaolin. Unfortunately,
his new safe house was many miles from the city. Caine, of course,
had been honored to be invited on such short notice. Peter could
not help but think that HE would have been annoyed, but then he was
not his father. With his father gone, he'd contemplated bypassing
a visit to Chinatown altogether, but quickly vetoed that idea. The
Ancient was not blood kin, but Peter felt obligated to tell the old
man he was leaving town for a while, on business. Besides, he'd
reasoned, Lo Si could tell his father about the trip if, when Caine
returned.
"Lo Si?" Peter knocked briefly before entering the old man's
home.
"Ah, Peter, you are in time for tea." Lo Si was in the process
of pouring two cups as Peter joined him in the living area.
The young detective could only grin, "Master, you are amazing."
"Of course! Cookie?" Lo Si slid a tray of chocolate chip cookies
toward Peter. Laughing the young man took three and joined Lo Si
on the couch.
"Ummm. These are very good. Home-made?"
"Yes," the old man sighed, "Mrs. Woo has decided she has been
a widow long enough."
"So, when's the big day?"
The old one shook a bony finger at the impertinence of the youth,
"It is not polite to tease your elders, Young Caine."
Peter popped a fourth cookie in his mouth, "Who's teasing?"
Lo Si slapped the young detective's hand away from the plate,
then sobered, "You are going away?"
Stunned, Peter stuttered, "Y..yes, M..master. I'm leaving in the
morning, on police business. I, uh, I don't know how long I will be
gone."
The Ancient nodded, "Your father will be returning soon, I will
tell him of your journey."
"P..Pop's coming back?"
"Your father was always returning, Peter, he was only visiting
our young emperor."
"Oh, I know that, Lo Si. I just didn't realize he'd be back so
soon."
The old man let the lie pass, "I will inform your father of your
journey, young Caine."
"Thank you, Master."
His good-bye to Annie had been another sore spot for Peter. Annie
Blaisdell was also out of town, visiting her oldest daughter and her
family. Peter'd called until almost midnight, but the answering
machine was the only voice he'd heard. Disappointed, he'd left a
brief message on the recorder and gone to bed, only to be plagued
by the demons of his past.
Peter leaned back against the sofa and resigned himself to wakefulness. Glancing around his living room, he suddenly felt boxed
in. The unusual sensations of claustrophobia almost overwhelmed him.
He rose from the sofa, and gave his luggage one last check, "Might as
well be awake at the airport as here."
Four hours later, he climbed wearily from the small commuter prop
plane, and raced from the D terminal to the A terminal in a frantic
bid to make his connecting flight. "Why the heck can't I ever get a
connection in the same terminal?" He knew that the thought was wasted,
surely there was something in the Tao that prohibited such convenience.
Sliding gratefully into the aisle seat he'd requested, he took the
pillow offered by the stewardess, buckled his seatbelt and braced himself for a long flight. The plane was unusually empty. He had
the entire row of seats to himself. The row across the aisle was also
empty, except for the window seat, which was occupied by a man about
the same age as Peter's father.
As the plane taxied down the runway, Peter's thoughts returned to
his previous stay in San Francisco.
"Sir, why don't you come back and get some food. You're obviously hungry."
"No, it wouldn't be right. I can't take food away from people
who need it."
"You're hungry, why don't you need it?"
He'd met his match in Helen Jones. The feisty retired schoolteacher
had practically dragged him back to the homeless shelter for a decent
meal, a good night's sleep, a job, and sanity. The older woman was
almost as dear to him as Annie Blaisdell. And her family, well, his
friendship with Helen's son Steve was closer than some who were related by blood. Steve's wife, Amanda, was equally dear to the young detective
and Peter was proud to tell anyone who'd listen about his goddaughter, Katy. He smiled suddenly as he realized that Amanda must be close to the end of her pregnancy and that Katy would soon be a big sister.
The dark hair and Asian features of the young stewardess brought
his thoughts back to the girl who'd been killed in the last robbery.
Peter knew he'd been unsuccessful in halting the flow of blood and
as far as he was concerned, he'd failed just as badly in his attempt
to transfer his chi. The dying girl's face hovered in his thoughts.
He desperately tried not to focus on how much the girl resembled M.. "NO! Don't go there." He mentally slapped himself, bringing the
present into focus once more. He took the breakfast tray from the smiling stewardess, thanked her and turned all his energies on determining what he was eating.
Finishing the meal, he handed the same stewardess the empty tray,
and settled down to try to sleep, praying all the while that his
latest nightmares would stay away for a while.
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part - 03 ↑
Steve Jones poured himself a large mug of coffee, gulped down
a sizable amount of the hot brew, and began to choke and sputter.
Amanda sighed heavily, and nixed the latest brand of decaf from her
shopping list. "That bad?" she asked, almost sympathetically.
"This, this is the worst, yet!" he groused as he poured the
remainder of the liquid down the drain. "Are you sure I need to
give up caffeine?"
"Not anymore," she thought. Aloud she responded, "The doctor
recommended it at your last physical. Your blood pressure was up
and he didn't really think twelve cups of coffee a day was good,
even for YOUR hyperactive personality."
"Six."
"What?"
"It was six cups of coffee, not twelve."
"Steven Michael Jones, you know very well that each of those mugs
you call a cup, holds at least two 'real' cups." Her eyes flashed
in anger as she absently rubbed her back.
The detective was no fool, he'd learned with Katy that one never
wins an argument with a pregnant woman, particularly one the size
of a condominium. Raising his hands in mock surrender, he replied,
"Sorry, darling. It's just that these jewelry store heists are making
me a little edgy, and no caffeine is making it worse." He moved
forward and began to gently massage his wife's lower back.
"Lower, oh, there! It's been six weeks since they started. Don't
you have ANY clues?"
"We got lucky in the last hold-up. The store was replacing its
old cameras with new ones. One of the old cameras was still active,
even though it was hanging out of the wall. The thieves thought
they'd killed all the pictures, but missed that one."
"Then you have their photos. Steve, that's great!"
He sank dejected into a kitchen chair, "I wish. They wore stocking
masks, of all things. We only got a distorted image."
"I'm sorry, Steve." She hesitated briefly, "How's the manager
doing?"
"Still in a coma. I have no idea why they pistol-whipped the
old man. He may yet die and the doctors aren't sure he'll ever come
out of the coma." He brightened, "We do have a slight edge, though."
"What?" Mandy laid a gentle hand on his arm.
"The descriptions combined with the bad photos, have almost matched
a gang of thieves that were operating in the mid-west. I'm told that
they vanished after they killed a clerk."
"Oh, God! That's an edge?"
"No, seems a cop was passing the store just as the robbers ran out.
They removed their masks as they left the store. The artists' sketches
from his descriptions are what we're passing out now. AND he's arriving
here later this morning. I'm told he's been temporarily assigned to
help us catch these creeps. Hopefully before anyone else is hurt or
killed."
"What's his name?"
"No idea. The powers that be haven't broadcast his name or description, even to us."
"Why on earth not?"
Steve frowned, "I'm not sure, but I think there's a leak in the
chain of command. The press has had too many details that we've
wanted kept secret. I'm guessing this guy is to be a 'secret
weapon', so to speak. I'm supposed to pick him up at the airport
at ten."
"How will you find him?'
He shrugged, "I'm supposed to get that answer at the airport."
***************
Peter slept fitfully, unable to get comfortable in the small
spaces known as seats in coach. The fact that he was able to
sleep at all spoke volumes about his exhaustion. He moaned quietly,
then snapped awake with a violent start. He glanced, wild-eyed
around him, then relaxed. It had just been a nightmare, another
damn nightmare. The dying girl's face had been seared into his
memory the moment he'd pulled her into his arms. Her eyes had
fluttered open only briefly, reflecting her pain, confusion and
fear. He'd locked eyes with her for a short moment as he passed
on his chi. She'd calmed in his embrace and he was almost sure
he'd been able to provide some comfort to the girl. "At least,"
he thought bitterly, "I could do that right."
Sighing deeply, he checked his watch and decided to watch the
inflight movie. As he unwrapped the headset, he once again wondered
about the scarcity of information about his new 'assignment'. He
didn't know where he would be working, or even, who he would be
working with. For that matter, he didn't know who was meeting him
at the airport. One thing was certain, however, Steve, Amanda and
Helen would be surprised. He'd call them as soon as he was able.
Smiling, he finally admitted to himself that he really wanted to
see Katy's face when he handed her the Millenium Beanie Baby that
Donnie Double D had managed to scrounge up. The little snitch had
even sworn that it was NOT a counterfeit. His last conversation with
the child had revealed a desire for the little bear and 'Uncle Peter'
had been determined to come through for his little angel. The start
of the movie signaled the end of all thought, good or bad. Peter
settled back into his seat, and allowed the comedy to drive away his
shadows for a time.
***************
"You were told not to move." The man brandished the shotgun in
front of the terrified patrons of Wong's Chinatown Jewelry Store.
His cohorts finished filling their bags with jewelry and headed for
the door.
A second male voice hissed, "Come on. It's time."
"You're right. It is time." Without a word or a hint of hesitation,
the gunman fired pointblank into the group of people huddled together
in the center of the room. Three collapsed, bleeding to the floor as
the trio fled toward the getaway car.
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part - 04 ↑
Steve Jones cursed to himself as travel once again slowed to a
crawl. Fortunately, he'd given himself some leeway in getting to
the airport, but he was definitely running out of time. For a
moment, he thought of using his siren to bypass the traffic, but
common sense, and the thought of what his Captain would say, changed
his mind. He huffed a deep breath, and settled back to 'enjoy' the
wait.
************
Peter looked up from his magazine as the pilot's voice came over
the intercom, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we've arrived at San Francisco
International Airport only a few minutes behind schedule. Local time
is 10:10. Unfortunately, we've been put into a holding pattern around
the airport. We expect to have you on the ground in about twenty
minutes."
"Give or take an hour." Peter stifled a laugh as the disgusted
businessman in the seat behind him interpreted the pilot's announcement
for his fellow passengers. The young detective reset his watch to
local time, leaving his national pager on his home time. He hated
wearing a pager but he'd been working a couple of reasonably high
profile cases and the Captain had made it quite clear that she wanted
to be able to reach him as quickly as possible. Thus he was not only stuck with a pager, but the loaner was a large alpha-pager, that somehow seemed larger than the pouch his father always carried. Wishing desperately that he could stretch his legs, or anything else for that matter, he settled back to wait some more.
************
Arrival parking continued to be full as Steve circled the airport
for the second time. This time he made sure he did not miss the turn
into short term parking. Leaving his car halfway to China, he ran
for the main entrance. His watch told him that the plane had touched
down thirty minutes before and, not only was he not there to meet the
loaner cop, he still didn't know who he was looking for. In an embarrassing moment of stupidity, his gun set off the security gates.
Grimacing, he pulled his badge and silenced the loud alarm before
reinforcements could arrive. He mumbled a breathless "Sorry" to the
infuriated airport cop and raced off to meet his charge.
To his relief, the passengers were deplaning as Steve arrived at
the gate. The young detective checked with the desk to see if he
had a message. The pretty girl in the airline uniform shook her
head and turned to help the next person in line. Puzzled, Steve
started to search the crowd for the cop, hoping he'd be able to pick
out the man by instinct.
************
Peter was trapped behind a three hundred pound man who'd insisted
on carrying on ALL his luggage. Not only did he not fit in the aisles,
neither did his baggage. Peter strongly suspected that neither of
the carry on bags would have met the size criteria, but fortunately for
the other passenger, and unfortunately for those behind him, the plane
was lightly populated.
************
A clean-cut older man emerged from the tunnel. Steve was just
about to approach the 'possible' cop, when the man was bowled over
by a child screaming, "GRANDFATHER!"
"OK," Steve thought, "So much for instinct." His eyes widened as
he caught a glimpse of a familiar head behind a really large, slow moving man. "Peter? Oh, my God, I should've known. PETER!"
"STEVE?" Peter's smile was as broad as the man's rear in front
of him. Peter managed to escape entrapment in the tunnel and was
enthusiastically hugged by his friend.
"YOU'RE the cop?" Steve asked with delight, then frowned and
punched his friend in the shoulder, "Why didn't you let us know you
were coming?"
"I got the word at the last minute and wanted to surprise all of
you." Peter laughed enthusiastically, "How're Mandy, Katy, Helen?"
"Just great! Mandy's a little moody cause she can't reach her
toes but they're all..." He grimaced as his pager went off. Peter
grinned as his friend glared at the equally hated device and moved
quickly toward a phone. The Shaolin cop watch his friend's face
with concern as the other detective returned the phone to its cradle.
"Problems?" Peter asked, fearing the answer.
"To quote a friend of yours, 'Oh, Yeah'. There's been another
heist, but now it's gone further than that; one dead, two critical.
We need to go now." He looked at the sports bag in Peter's hand,
"I don't suppose that's all you brought."
"Not hardly, but I'll leave my luggage unclaimed. It'll take too long to retrieve it. The important stuff is in this bag." Peter
mentally congratulated himself for putting Millenium in the carry
on. "Let's move."
************
News media had descended upon the murder scene like vultures on
road-kill. Steve was forced to park several blocks away. He then
led Peter through several back alleys and at least two stores to
reach the Chinatown jewelry store.
Peter watched helplessly as his friend worried about the victims.
Although Steve would have been concerned no matter who the injured
and dead were, this robbery had struck too close to home. Charlie
Wong was a regular contributor to Helen's Chinatown homeless shelter
and the two older people had been friends for years. Steve and
Peter dodged the press and interested onlookers to duck under the
crime scene tape. The ambulances had already left for the hospital
but the coroner's wagon was a grim reminder that not everyone had
survived this hold-up.
Steve's eyes surveyed the chaos of the scene and finally landed
on the object of his search, Charlie Wong. The old man was visibly
shaken, the Oriental calm shattered in the midst of tragedy. Peter
followed Steve as the young detective approached the man, "Mr. Wong?"
It took a moment for the older man to register the presence of
the younger ones. "Steven, you are here?"
"Yes, Mr. Wong."
"Why? Why did he shoot, Steven? The others had the jewelry. No
one was moving against them. Why?"
"I..I don't know, sir, but I promise you, I, we'll find out."
The traumatized man never heard the young cop's words, "He just
said, 'It is time' and fired. I don't understand, Steven, time for
what?"
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part - 05 ↑
The morning newspaper landed on the bed with a satisfying thud,
"Front page AGAIN! And photos this time, in color."
One of the occupants opened his eyes lazily and reached for the
paper. Sliding into a sitting position, he concentrated on the article,
savoring each detail of their escapades.
"Would you hold it down, I'm trying to get my beauty sleep?" The female voice was muffled, coming from underneath her pillow. She
yelped as the pillow was jerked from her head and slammed down on her
back.
"Won't help, Becca."
"Shut up, Sid!" She angrily flung the pillow at his head.
Dodging, he laughed, "I'm gonna wake up Mark. We oughtta celebrate."
Sid left the room, still laughing loudly.
Becca glared at his retreating back, "God, he's stupid!"
Carl never lifted his head from the paper, "Yeah, but he's so easy
to manage."
She snuggled into his shoulder, "Anything good in there?"
Becca found herself unceremoniously dumped to the floor as the
furious man leaped out of bed. "Mark! Sid! Get in here now!"
Sid popped immediately back into the room, followed more slowly
by the still sleepy blond. "What's wrong Carl?"
The angry man glared at his partners, "Did you look at the photo?"
Puzzled, Sid responded, "Yeah, I saw it, Carl. I pointed it out
to you, remember?"
"IDIOT! Did you LOOK at the photo inside the paper?"
"Just spit it out, Carl. Sid will never catch on." Mark's voice
contained a hint of amusement as he spoke.
Carl jerked the paper into the air. Snapping it open, he pointed
to an image captioned with 'Store owner Charlie Wong and two unidentified police officers'. "Recognize anyone?"
Sid and Mark stared for a moment at the picture, then Mark said
carefully, "Isn't that the cop from..."
"Yes, it is." Carl spoke through clenched teeth.
"What's he doing here?" Sid asked curiously. Becca moaned and
lay back down on the bed.
Carl took a deep breath before he answered, "Well, if I had to
guess, I'd say he was looking for US!" Carl moved forward suddenly
and slammed Mark into the wall, "I told you we should kill him before
we left town. He's the only one who's ever seen me, us."
Mark gulped, "I..I'm sorry, Carl. I just thought that killing a
cop...."
"Well, you were WRONG! He's HERE. He can ID us, gentlemen. What
do you say now?"
Becca smiled up from the bed. Reaching for Carl's hand, she stroked
it gently, "I think you kill him. Come back to bed, baby. Please?"
She trembled with anticipation, sex with Carl was sooo much better
when he was angry.
Glancing down at his lover, Carl grinned. "Mark, Sid, I suggest
you find out where he is. He's a loose end that needs to be tied up,
quickly. Now leave!"
*************
"Goddammit to HELL!" Steve was livid, flinging the newspaper
down on the kitchen table.
All eyes turned to him, but Katy was the first to speak, "Daddy,
was that two bad words or one real bad one?"
Peter concealed a laugh as the little girl leaned her head back
against his shoulder. Since his arrival the night before, the child
had followed him everywhere. The guest room had quickly replaced
his hotel accommodations and Peter had been quick to notify Karen
Simms of his new living arrangements.
"What? I'm sorry, pumpkin." Steve reached for his wallet. "It
was really one real bad word and one bad word."
"YES!" The child's enthusiasm only added to Peter's confusion.
Noticing their friend's reaction, Mandy laughed, "We have a rule,
Peter. No cursing. Bad words put a dollar in the 'word' jar and
real bad words put five dollars in the jar. When there's enough
in it, we do something special as a family."
Steve sighed, "So far, I'm the only contributor."
"Uh Uh, Daddy, Momma had to put two dollars in yesterday."
"Tattletale. Go brush your teeth and put your dress on. The
bus will be here in a few minutes." Mandy pulled the reluctant
child out of Peter's lap and pushed her toward the stairs.
"Can't I stay home with Uncle Peter?"
"Uncle Peter's got to work, baby girl. He'll be back at dinner
time. Now mind your mother."
"Yes, sir." The child raced up the stairs, leaving all the
grownups wishing for such energy.
"Word jar?" Peter asked curiously, "Guess I'll have to be careful.
What prompted this?"
"A string of words Katy picked up at school, a couple of months
ago." Mandy sighed, "Helen was quite shocked."
Peter laughed, "That bad?"
"YES!" The young mother smiled at her friend. "Daddy had a
long talk with her when he got home that night. Grounded her for
a week, without TV."
Steve sighed, "Yeah, why do I always get punishment duty anyway?"
His wife smiled, "Cause you do it so well." Ignoring his grimace,
she went on, "Any rate, we decided to reinforce cursing not being
a good thing to do by starting the 'word' jar."
Steve spoke softly, to avoid little ears, "Of course, it only
counts if SHE'S around, thank God."
"What only counts if who's around, Daddy?" The child appeared
around the corner, "Momma, these buttons won't go."
Mandy quickly straightened the buttons on the rose colored dress
as Steve said firmly, "None of your business, Katherine."
"Katy, hurry, I see the bus down the street."
The eight year old gave a quick hug and kiss to every adult in
the kitchen then grabbed her books and made a beeline for the door.
She paused, hand on the knob, then turned to look at the adults
in the room, "Uncle Peter, just so you'll know. Daddy's not always
mad when he says 'Katherine'. Sometimes," she grinned knowingly,
"Sometimes, he's just been talking 'bout me. Bye!" The child
vanished through the door before anyone could respond.
Steve could only stare stunned as his daughter disappeared onto
the bus while Peter and Mandy dissolved into fits of laughter. The
exasperated father looked at his wife and friend, then shook his
head and grinned, "That child..." He caught sight of the paper
again and frowned, "D.. I almost forgot. Check out page seven."
Mandy moved to stand behind Peter as the young detective fumbled
with the pages. He gasped as he saw the picture with Mr. Wong. Mandy
looked confused, "OK, I give. It's a picture of you and Peter with
poor Mr. Wong. What's the problem?"
"Mandy, I saw the thieves back home."
"Right and?"
"They also saw me."
"OK." She still looked puzzled, then her eyes widened, "OH!"
"We better go in. They left town when I saw them the first time.
I hope they don't run again. I want these scum."
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part - 06 ↑
Peter's eyes widened as Steve pulled his Ford into the parking
lot of the Chinatown precinct. The office building was old, older
even than the ancient monstrosity housing the 101st. The main
difference he spotted was that this building had been built by an
architect with a flare for design. Steve turned to speak and saw
Peter eyeing the building.
"Great, isn't it?"
"Yeah, is the inside as nice?"
"You'll see in a few minutes."
The pair exited Steve's red Taurus and climbed the stairs to
the front entrance. Peter was chattering non-stop about how great
it was the way some areas held onto their history when his jaw
dropped to the floor. Steve started to laugh, "Hit me that way
the first time I saw it, too."
Peter openly gaped at the spectacle before him. While the
Chinatown precinct's exterior was late 1890's, having been one of
the structures to survive the great San Francisco earthquake of
1906, its interior was strictly 1990's. Glass bricks separated
the main reception area from the rest of the building. Steve pushed
Peter's jaw back in place, then spoke to the guard at the door.
"Hi, Tom, this is Peter Caine. He's an out of town cop on loan to
us to catch these jewelry store bandits. Here's the paperwork on
his weapon."
The older man smiled, "Nice to meet you. Hope you can do something
with these assholes." Without waiting for Peter to reply, he turned
his attention back to Steve, "Captain left word that he was to be
given a temporary id. Take him to Kevin but watch out. Tax season's
over and Suzy's been celebrating again."
Steve smiled then ushered Peter around the security check. Peter
frowned, "Metal detectors?"
"Yeah, sign of the times. Had a crazy get in here a few years
ago, with a 22. No one killed, thank God, but one of the secretaries
took a bullet in the shoulder."
"Poor girl."
"Guy."
"Huh?"
"Peter, this is San Francisco. The secretary was male, and quite
good. He's since become a court reporter." He stopped outside a
door labeled Photo Lab. "This is where the id's are made but Kevin
also does the mug shots. It's hard to tell the difference sometimes."
"The guy at the door said to watch out. Watch out for what?"
Steve grinned broadly, "Oh, Kevin's wife Suzy's a tax accountant.
Every year on April 16, she goes into celebration mode which means
that Kevin usually doesn't get a lot of sleep, for one reason or
another."
Peter started to laugh but was loudly shushed by his friend,
"Unless you want your id to look like you're on the ten most wanted
list, Peter, we both need to be perfectly serious when we go in."
************
"Lacey, line one."
"Who is it?"
"Some nut complaining about those robbery photos in the paper
today."
"Special, why give 'em to me?"
"Cause you wrote the story on the jewelry story robbery, stupid."
"Great, thanks." Picking up the phone the young journalist
quickly said, "Can I help you?"
["I certainly hope so. Are you responsible for my picture
being in the paper this morning?"]
"I'm not sure. Who are you?"
["Name's Martin Alberts. If you were going to put my picture in
the paper, the least you could do is put my name in too."]
"Which picture are you referring to?"
["Why the one on page seven, of course, I was one of the men
comforting poor Mr. Wong.]
"Sir, are you a cop?"
["No I'm not. That's another thing you have wrong. I ought to
sue."]
"Mr. Alberts, I can assure you that you were not in that photo."
["Humph. The caption says 'unidentified'. Well, I'm telling you
that the guy on the right was me."]
"Sir, we didn't have the names before we went to press, but the
gentleman on the right is Steve Jones, Chinatown precinct and the
other man is Peter Caine, temporarily assigned to the Chinatown
precinct to work with Jones."
["It certainly looks like me. Are you sure?"]
"Yes sir, I'm quite sure."
["Oh. I'm sorry I wasted your time."] The line went suddenly dead.
Lacey stared for a moment at the number on his caller id box. "Marcy?"
"Yeah Joe?"
He quickly wrote down the number and passed it to the young woman.
"This number didn't have a name attached. Can your 'friend' downtown
find out where the call came from?"
She smiled, "No problem. When do you need it?"
"No rush. It just seemed a little strange to me. Tomorrow's
fine."
************
Peter followed Steve through rows of double cubicles. Low cube
walls provided each work station with a separate feel, while leaving
the area open for easy communication with fellow workers. Steve
introduced Peter to each person on his aisle, then plopped wearily
into his chair. Motioning Peter to the extra chair in his cube, he
said, "Well, that's some of them out of the way, at least."
"Huh?"
"Introductions, my friend, you've got another, oh, twenty or so
to go yet."
"Terrific..."
"JONES - Captain Heller wants you, and your buddy, yesterday."
Steve leaned back in his chair and shouted, "On the way, Chief."
Peter laughed, "What - no fancy intercoms?"
"Yeah, but we seem to like the traditional methods better. You
know, bull horns, carrier pigeons, that sort of thing. Better not
keep the Captain waiting."
A heavy shock of salt and pepper gray hair was leaning back in
a chair behind a standard executive workstation desk. The phone
he held appeared to be implanted in his ear.
"Yes, Commissioner, No Commissioner. We are... Yes, Commissioner.
Three days... thank you, sir. I'm sure... yes, sir, shutting up...
Thank you Commissioner."
The two young detectives exchanged nervous glances as the obviously
frustrated man hung up. He turned and glared at the two men in front
of him. "Peter Caine, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Welcome, your Captain has told me a great deal about you."
"Uh, she has?" Peter moaned inwardly, wondering what Karen Simms
had chosen to say.
"Yes, she has," Captain Heller emphasized every word, "Now down to
business. That was the Commissioner, gentlemen. We have three days
to stop these jewelry store heists, then he brings in the FBI."
Steve spoke up quickly, "Three days! Sir, how can he do that?"
"Once Caine here positively id's these jokers, then they've crossed
state lines.
"I understand that, Captain, but three days! I realize that the
press has been hounding him on this case but he's held up much better
in the past. What's different this time?"
Both young cops blanched at Captain Heller's next words. "The
second victim died thirty minutes ago and the third's taken a turn
for the worse. She isn't expected to make it through the day."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 07 ↑
"Well?" Sid nervously twirled a key chain as he waited for the
answer.
"Got it. Steve Jones, Chinatown precinct and our visiting cop
finally has a name, Peter Caine. We left town so fast I never did
know who the guy was and stop rattling that THING!"
Sid quickly dropped the keys into his pocket, "Let's go tell
Carl."
"Are you nuts Sid? Carl and Becca are, well, they're busy."
"Doing what?"
"Surely you can't be THAT stupid!" Mark glared at the other man
with undisguised disgust.
"I am not...OH!"
"See. You can learn." Mark quickly looked through the phone
book. "Whoa - look at all the Joneses. We'll never find him in
there, but come to think of it, he's probably got an unlisted number."
"Well, how do we find him?"
Mark suddenly snapped his fingers, "IDIOT!"
"Look, I'm beginning to think..."
"Not you this time, me. We don't have to find him. We let him
find us."
"Are you NUTS?"
"Hear me out. We need to wax the Caine character right?"
"Right." Confusion was evident in Sid's voice.
"From what the reporter said, Jones and Caine are working together
on this case so if an anonymous informant calls in a tip...."
"Oh, I get it, they'll go where we want them to go. How're we
gonna get an informant to call, Mark?"
"God help me. Sid, Becca's gonna to the calling."
"Oh. What's she gonna say?"
"I haven't made that part up yet. Come on. Let's go talk to
Carl and Becca."
"But you said to leave them alone."
"That was before."
"Before what?"
"Jesus - before we had a plan."
****************
"Jones, line one. Some lady wants to talk to one of the cops
in the newspaper photo."
"Just a minute, Peter." Steve grabbed the phone, "Jones."
["Detective Jones, my name is Clarissa Rogers. I was shopping
across the street from Wong's Jewelry store yesterday but left
before the robbery. I didn't even realize until later that I was
just minutes away from being there when those awful people left."]
"Yes, ma'am. How can I help you?" Steve shrugged at Peter's
questioning gaze.
["Well, the TV reports said three men in black committed this
crime. Detective, there were three men in black in a car outside
the store as I was leaving the boutique where I'd been shopping.
There was a fourth man behind the wheel of the car."]
Steve Jones sat bolt upright in his chair, "Can you come in to
the precinct and..."
["I'm sorry, Detective, but I just don't have the leave time.
Yesterday was my day off. Unless I can give my boss a note or
something from the police that I've really helped them with an
investigation, he won't let me off without docking my pay."]
"We could come by your home after work, ma'am." Steve was
beating a steady rhythm on the desk with his pencil, while Peter
hovered around him mouthing "WHAT!"
["That would be lovely, thank you so much. OH! I have an idea.
I get an hour for lunch. Could you meet me somewhere and I can
at least give you some information?"]
Steve's voice registered his excitement, "Thank you, Ms. Rogers.
Where can we meet you?"
["We?]
"Yes, my partner will be coming along."
[Oh, was he in the newspaper, too?"]
"Yes, we both were."
["That's nice. I usually eat lunch on clear days in Washington
Square Park. Why don't I find a bench near Union and Stockton? I'm
wearing a red business suit and have brown hair."]
"That will be fine, Ms. Rogers. Noon?"
[11:30 will be better for me, if that's all right?"]
"11:30 it is. Thank you again." Steve hung up the phone and let
out a loud "YES!"
"What! WHAT? Steve, you better tell me quick."
"Chill, Peter, my friend. We have a witness who saw three men
in black in a car BEFORE the robbery. A four man was behind the
wheel. We're meeting her at 11:30." Steve whirled in a circle in
his chair.
"If her descriptions match mine, then we're right on target.
And if she can remember the car, that could be a major break!"
"Only if it matches the last car description we got. They
could be stealing cars just to use, then doing a dump and burn
on them."
"True, but let's hope for the best. What do we do now?"
Steve's mood sobered quickly, "I need to pay a courtesy call
on the victims' families. You know, to let them know we're doing
all we can to get these assholes." He paused, "You don't have to
go with me."
Peter nodded in understanding, "I'll go with you Steve. If we'd
been able to stop them at home, those people would be alive and
you wouldn't have to be making these calls at all." He didn't add
what he was thinking, "If only I'd been able to stop them."
****************
Becca burst into laughter as she entered the door of the dingy
apartment. She'd taken the bus to an office building across the
street from the park in order to make the phone call. Carl had
refused to let her call from anywhere else for fear the cops would
trace the call. "It worked like a charm. The moron bought it
hook, line and sinker. BOTH of them will be there."
Carl swept her into his arms and gave her an impassioned kiss,
"Oh, no, my dear. It was your acting abilities that sold the cop."
Mark laughed, "Great, a two for the price of one special."
"I don't get it, I thought we were gonna kill Caine, not sell
him something."
Three irritated voices yelled, "SID!" at the top of their lungs.
Carl continued quietly, "We're gonna kill both of them, stupid."
His attention was grabbed by the woman kissing his neck. "That
should, uh, send a message, uh, that we..we're..."
Mark dragged Sid from the room, as Carl and Becca dropped onto
the bed, again.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 08 ↑
The meeting with the family of the first victim proved tougher
than the two experienced detectives had anticipated. The old man
had died instantly, a bullet shattering his skull. His wake was
just beginning as the young cops arrived, the closed coffin a grim
reminder that a last 'viewing' of the deceased would not be possible.
The mass of vehicles in the driveway and on the street almost
dissuaded Steve and Peter from attempting to speak with the widow.
A sudden opening in parking convinced them it was fated that they
go inside. Steve knocked on the door and braced himself for the
ordeal to come.
A young priest opened the door slowly. Frowning at the two men,
he asked, "You're not reporters, are you?"
Steve quickly flashed his badge, "No, I'm Steven Jones and this
is Peter Caine from the Chinatown precinct. W..We're trying to
stop these a..killers."
The priest stood firmly rooted in the door, "Mrs. O'Brien is not
up to questions, gentlemen."
Peter broke in quickly, "No, Father, you misunderstand. We wish
to offer our condolences for the loss of her husband." He didn't add
his fear that she might not want to see the man whose failure had cost
her husband his life.
"Ah, yes. Please come in. Your help will be most appreciated."
The two men glanced at each other in confusion, then Steve responded,
"I'm afraid we don't understand."
"Mrs. O'Brien wants to see her husband one last time." He glanced
over his shoulder, "I was hoping you could persuade her otherwise."
Peter briefly patted Steve's shoulder as they were allowed into the house.
The O'Brien visitation had taken nearly forty minutes, but Peter
had finally convinced the grieving woman that her husband would not
want to be seen as he was. Driving away from the home, Peter said
sadly, "That was rough, she looked so, so lost."
"Yeah, I didn't know what to say. You, however, were great."
"Thanks, Pop may be rubbing off, after all. Where now?"
"Don't have an address on the second victim yet. Do you want
to risk the hospital? The third victim's still alive, for now."
Peter sighed, "'Want to' is not the right phrase, 'Need to' is
more like it. Let's go."
The young cops arrived at the hospital depressed and on edge.
The third shooting victim was a young woman, mid-twenties. The
nursing staff directed Steve and Peter towards the small meditation
room outside of the critical care unit. Peter froze as he followed
Steve through the door. A young man sat in a wooden rocker, quietly
humming an out-of-tune lullaby to the toddler in his lap. The little
boy wriggled restlessly in his father's arms even as his eyes struggled
to stay open. Steve introduced both himself and Peter to the young
father.
The man said nothing for a few moments more as his child finally
drifted off. Never varying the rocking motion, he said, "She's
dying, you know."
"Yes, sir. We're, we're very sorry."
He seemed not to hear, "We were trying to give Joey a little
brother or sister. Didn't want him to be an only child, you know.
Now, he'll be an only child without a mother. Oh, God, Emmie!"
His voice choked with sobs and he struggled to control them. His
pain almost overwhelmed the detectives as he met their eyes, "You'll
catch them, won't you?"
"Yes, sir. We'll catch them."
He simply nodded, then looked away in obvious dismissal as he
snuggled the sleeping child more tightly into his arms. The two
detectives crept quietly from the room. Peter paused at the door.
Looking back he no longer saw a stranger, but his father in similar
circumstances, holding the long vigil while his wife lay dying.
"Yes, sir," he whispered, "We'll stop them."
****************
Becca quickly gave herself the once-over in the mirror. The red
business suit fit perfectly and her short curly brown hair was styled
just right for the role she was to play. Sliding on the designer
glasses, with fake lenses, she gave Carl one last passionate kiss
as they joined Sid and Mark in the hall. It was almost time for
her star performance.
****************
Peter was unusually quiet as they left the hospital. Steve watched
his friend in silence for a moment, then asked, "Peter, want to talk
about it?"
The Shaolin cop looked down at his hands then said, "I'm sorry,
Steve."
"About what?" The San Francisco cop was more than a little
confused.
"If I'd caught them back home, you wouldn't be going through
this. THEY wouldn't be going through this."
"Peter, this was NOT your fault. Good as you are, you can't
stop all the bad guys. There're just too many."
"But..."
"NO, Peter. No misplaced guilt. We simply do not have the time
to waste on it."
The shocked Shaolin cop stared at his friend, "W..What?"
"It's almost 11:15. We've got to get to the park." To himself
Steve added, "We'll deal with misplaced guilt after we catch these
scumbags."
It took ten of the fifteen minutes to get to the park and another
five to locate the brunette in the red suit. Recognition swept her
face as they walked down the sidewalk toward a bench near the street.
"Mrs. Rogers?" Steve called across the square.
She waved, rose and went to meet them. Steve picked up his pace
as Peter's slowed. Something was wrong. Peter's eyes scanned the
crowds and traffic as his best friend closed in on the potential
witness. As Steve reached out to take her hand, Peter suddenly
screamed, "Steve, trap!" Throwing himself toward his friend, he
barely noticed as the young woman in red flung herself away from
the cops. All he had eyes for were the shotguns aimed in their direction
from a nearby car window.
The blasts were accompanied by the screams of nearby pedestrians,
scattering for safety wherever possible. The screech of tires indicated
the retreat of the shooters, and Peter quickly pulled himself off of
his friend. "Damn it. I should have known." Disgust was replaced
with horror as he saw the blood on his hands. Screaming "STEVE!" at
the top of his lungs, he ripped Steve's cell phone from his pocket, dialed in a frantic 'officer needs assistance," then pulled his young friend into his arms and desperately attempted to stop the bleeding.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 09 ↑
"What's taking so long?" Tears streamed down Peter Caine's face
as he held his friend. He'd managed to get the bleeding under control,
but had found no exit wound. Steve's breathing was labored and Peter
suspected that one lung had collapsed. The Shaolin cop forced himself
to relax as he concentrated on passing life-sustaining chi to his
friend.
"Sir, sir, please sir, we need to treat him. You'll have to let
go." The young paramedic forced Peter's hands from Steve's body.
Turning to her partner, she said, "Pulse, weak and thready, let's get
an IV started." She started to speak to Peter, then frowned, "Sir,
are you all right? You're very pale."
"I...I'm fine, just see to my partner, my friend. Pl..please
don't let him die." Peter sank slowly to the ground, nervously
watching for any sign of movement from Steve. The paramedics worked
swiftly to stabilize the injured cop. Soon, but not soon enough for
his worried friend, Steve was loaded into the ambulance for transport.
The young paramedic physically blocked Peter from climbing into the
back with Steve.
"Sir, you cannot ride back here."
"He's my partner!"
"Then let us help him. We have to transport now." Pushing Peter
backwards with one hand, she slammed the door shut. The stunned
detective backed away as the ambulance disappeared without him.
A middle-aged patrolman who'd spent as much time in the donut
shop as he had on patrol, grabbed Peter's arm. "Detective Caine,
sir, Captain Heller said he'd get Detective Jones' mother and meet
you at the hospital. He assumed you'd go get his wife."
Horror replaced the shock in Peter's eyes, "Oh, God, Mandy. I'll
have to tell her. Captain Heller's gone for Helen?"
The older cop gave the shaken young man a sympathetic pat on the
back, "Yes. I'm sorry, son, but it'll be easier coming from you."
Peter took a deep breath, "I..I know. I'll go get her. I, uh,
I..." He turned to look helplessly at the local cop, "I don't know where they're taking him. I..I don't even know how to get to any
of the hospitals around here."
The other man looked surprised, then said, "Damn I'm getting old.
You're that out of town cop that's helping with this gang of jewel
thieves, aren't you?"
Peter nodded slowly as he ran his fingers nervously through his
hair.
"Son, I'm Harry Matthews. Get in. I'll take you where you need
to go." He eyed Peter's blood-covered clothing with dismay, "But
first we need to get you cleaned up."
***********
Amanda Jones stood in her front yard, surveying the beginnings of
the landscaping with satisfaction. Between her job, volunteering at
the shelter and keeping up with Katy and Steve, she'd had no time to
do anything more than a few window boxes of annuals every year. The
shrubs in front of the house were fine, but she dearly loved the
vibrant colors of the perennials she found in the catalogs. This
pregnancy had been a blessing in more ways than one. Steve had finally taken the time to till the beds that she'd wanted for so long. "Now,"
she sighed, "if I can just get him to plant the rest of the flowers."
She rubbed her protruding belly as the occupant elbowed its way
into a better position. The problems she'd had early on seemed to
have ended but her obstetrician had recommended she stop work early.
Smiling, she spoke lovingly, "Not quite three more months little one,
then we'll work on the plants."
The sound of a car pulled her attention toward the street. They
lived at the end of a cul-de-sac, with very little traffic except
for the standard early morning and late afternoon rush. Mandy looked
puzzled as the patrol unit slowed to a stop in front of her house,
then went ghost-pale as Peter climbed slowly out. He'd removed his
blood-covered jacket, but the expression on his face gave him away.
"Oh, God, oh God, NO! STEVE! Peter, please..."
The young cop moved swiftly to catch the young woman as she stumbled.
"He's alive, Mandy. He was shot but he's alive. We need to get to the
hospital."
She took a few tentative steps toward the car, then looked at Peter
with indecision in her eyes, "Peter, what about Katy? She can't come home to an empty house. I have to..." She looked helplessly at her friend, torn between rushing to her husband and getting to her child.
Turning her gently toward the car, Peter responded, "It's not twelve
thirty yet. She doesn't get out of school for another couple of hours.
We'll go to the hospital, find out how S..Steve is, then take care
of Katy."
She nodded, almost successful in her attempts to hold back her
tears and allowed him to help her into the patrol car.
*************
Carl was pacing the living room of the dingy apartment when Mark
returned. "Did you get rid of the car?"
"Yeah, it's burning along with an abandoned warehouse."
"Fine." Carl suddenly slammed his fist into the wall next to Mark. Sid jumped at the sound while Mark froze where he was. Carl grabbed Mark by the shoulders and slammed him into the wall, "What went wrong? They should both be dead!"
"I..I don't know, Carl. That Caine dude seemed to know it was a
trap."
Carl glared at the man, "Well Caine's not hurt at all and he's the
one we've got to worry about. He saw us."
The motion of the door temporarily ended the argument as Becca
entered the room. She released her long blond hair from its clips
and started to unbutton the white uniform, "Damn this thing's
uncomfortable."
"Well?" Carl turned all his attention toward his lover.
"Caine wasn't hurt but Jones is in critical condition. He was
in surgery when I left."
"Did anyone recognize you?"
"In this get-up? Not a chance. I left before Caine got there, but
I bet I could've stood next to him and he wouldn't have recognized me."
Carl kissed her eager lips, "Didn't want to put you at risk, my dear.
Besides you gather intelligence so well. Where's Caine?"
"Gone to fetch the wife. Some other cop brought in an old woman
that turned out to be Jones' mother."
"How sweet. Anything else?"
She grinned wickedly, "I got to comfort Mommy, and did the old
biddy want to talk. Seems our Detective Caine is very close to the
Jones family. He's even the godfather to their little girl."
"Who gives a shit, Becca, we need Caine silent or dead, preferably
dead!" Mark's tone was bitter and Sid looked frightened.
Carl smiled, "THEY may not get it, Becca, but I do. The damn
cop's friend has been badly injured so we've got him off balance.
Now all we have to do is keep him that way, at least until he dies."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 10 ↑
Peter kept a close eye on Mandy as they reached the front door
of the hospital. She stopped suddenly, staring at the entrance as
if it were a monster waiting to pounce. "Mandy?"
Her voice was low and calm, too calm, "I'm OK. I'm just g..getting
ready."
Puzzled he asked, "For what?"
"To l..lose him."
The Shaolin cop felt his own heart freeze at her words. Shaking
his head he put a gentle hand under her chin and forced her to look
at him. "You are not going to lose him, Amanda. I promise."
"But what if he's already g..gone, Peter? What will I tell Katy?
And the baby, what about the baby?"
"He's still alive, Mandy. I..I'd know if he weren't."
"Oh," she replied, never questioning his assertion for a moment,
"Then we'd better find Helen."
Peter smiled briefly as he held the door for the pretty wife,
praying all the while that she would not be a widow by the end of
the day.
*************
Kermit Griffin whistled almost merrily as he entered his office.
His testimony had proven to be the deciding factor in the Gilbert
sentencing, and the little piece of slime had received the maximum
sentence. "Yes," he thought, "All is right with the world." His
smile turned into a frown as he stared at his PC screen, "What the
hell?" He quickly entered some commands and the information speeding
its way into the unknown stopped abruptly. His frown intensified
as he perused what had already been transmitted. Without moving
his eyes from what he was reading, he lifted his phone and dialed,
"Come here." Hanging up he entered a few more commands and sat
back to wait.
The door to his office opened and Karen Simms entered, "It usually
works the other way around, Griffin. What've you got?"
"Sorry, K..Captain, someone has been doing a background check on
one Peter Matthew Caine."
"WHAT! Who? Why?"
"You left out 'when' and 'where'. Answer is 'I do not know' to
all of the above, but I sure as hell intend to find out."
*************
His reunion with Helen Jones had not been the joyful meeting Peter
had been anticipating. He held back as the mother and wife fell
weeping into each other's arms. Helen was the first to halt her
tears and stood silently stroking her daughter-in-law's hair for a
moment. Mandy struggled to regain control and pushed away from
Helen. "Steve?"
"Nothing yet. Captain Heller's gone to bully the staff, again."
Helen Jones turned compassionate eyes on the young man standing
helplessly near her. Holding out her arms, the softly spoken,
"Peter," sent him into her embrace.
"Helen, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. St..."
The older woman put her hand over the distraught young man's
mouth, "Hush, Peter. It is not your fault. The emergency room
physician says that you saved his life. That he would have bled
to death if you hadn't gotten it under control."
"It is my fault, dammit. I should have stopped these, these people
back home!"
Helen closed her eyes against the pain in the young voice. Bracing
herself, she responded, "I see. So now what, the Jones family should
hate you forever for failing them?"
Stunned, Peter drew back, "W..what?"
She gently touched his cheek, "Darling Peter, always trying to
carry the guilt of the world on his shoulders. Baby, put the blame
where it lies - on the jerks that pulled the trigger, not on yourself.
YOU are one of the good guys, I know it, Mandy knows it and Steve
knows it. You give the world much, much more than it has ever given
you."
Peter swallowed back his tears, "But, Helen..."
"No 'buts', young man. Captain Heller needs to speak with you.
Remember you have a job to do. Catch these assholes."
Twin voices chimed out, "HELEN!"
"What youngsters? I was married to a cop. I'm the mother of a
cop AND I work in a homeless shelter. Did you really think I didn't
know the words?" Helen Jones gently turned Peter to face down the
hall. Giving him a firm but gentle shove, she commanded, "Go, do your
job and rescue the nursing staff from Martin Heller in the process."
"Yes Ma'am."
*************
"Shit!" Joe Lacey angrily hit the desk with his fist.
"What's wrong?" An older reporter moved to stand behind Joe.
"Oh, I just got shut out of a query I was running."
"On what?"
Joe hesitated, "Uh, never mind."
"Protecting a source?" The older man grinned knowingly.
The young reporter smiled, "Something like that."
*************
"Yes, Captain, that pretty well sums it up. I caught the guns
in the window out of the corner of my eye. I thought they were
shotguns, but...."
"But Steve was definitely hit by a 22 slug. That matches with
the videocams on the hold-ups, as well as the wounds inflicted in
the last robbery. Two suspects with shotguns, a third always has
a pistol. We've got an APB out on the car but I'll bet it's long
gone."
"Yes, sir. I'm sure it is."
"You didn't by any chance see the shooters?"
"No, sir. I..I saw the guns and dove for Steve. He..."
"Excuse me, Detective Caine?" A middle-aged nurse approached the
pair.
"Yes?"
"You have a phone call. Line three, you can take it at the desk."
Peter looked puzzled, "Thank you. Who the heck?" He moved quickly
to the phone, "Caine."
["Sorry we missed you today, Detective."]
The detective's hand tightened on the headset, "What do you want?"
Hand signals to Heller got a trace started on the line.
["You were supposed to die today."]
"Sorry to disappoint you."
["It's OK. I'll make up for it. I've already decided on the next
target."]
"I'm all ears."
A sadistic laugh came through the wire, ["I'll bet you are. I'll
be in touch."]
Peter slammed the headset into the cradle and whirled to face
Captain Heller, who shook his head, "Not on long enough. Get anything
useful?"
"NO, Dammit!" Peter took a deep breath, "But I've got a real bad
feeling about this."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 11 ↑
"Mandy, pacing is doing you no good. Your feet are already starting
to swell." Helen gently chided her nervous daughter-in-law.
"I know, but these chairs are not very comfortable."
"Try this." Peter pushed an oversized office chair into position
by the expectant mother.
"Where on earth? Peter, does anyone know you have this?"
"They will when they try to sit down."
"PETER!"
The young detective smiled, "Of course I told someone before I
took it, Mandy. Matter of fact, the head nurse told me which office
to requisition it from."
Sinking gratefully into the soft cushions, Mandy breathed a sigh
of relief, "That's much better. H..how long has it been?"
Helen looked at her watch, "It's been almost three hours."
Mandy sat bolt upright, "It's almost two-thirty?"
"Why yes, but, Oh my God. Katy!"
Amanda shoved herself upright in a panic, "I've got to get to
her, she can't ride the bus to an empty house. Oh, Steve..."
Peter gently pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair,
"Mandy, calm down. Call the school and tell them that I'll be
picking her up. Let them know what's happened. I'll explain it
to Katy."
Mandy choked back more tears, "Peter, I can't ask you to do that."
"Hey, what are godfathers for?"
Helen took over, "Amanda, go call the school. I'll give Peter
directions."
As Mandy disappeared in search of a private phone line, Peter
slapped his head in dismay, "I don't have a car."
Captain Heller had listened to the conversation quietly, not
willing to intrude on the private conversation. At Peter's words,
he spoke up, "Yes, you do, son. One of my officers brought Steve's
car here. Figured someone would need it. I'll go bring it up front."
Turning, the older cop disappeared, grateful at last to have something
to do other than wait.
As Helen was writing down directions to the elementary school,
Mandy returned, "I've spoken to the school councilor. They'll get
Katy to the front office and keep her there until you pick her up.
You're not on the sign-out list, Peter, so you'll have to give the
councilor Katy's school password."
"Password? You mean a code word only you and Katy know?"
"Well, you'll have to know that too but this is the school's
requirement. I wrote it down for you." She handed him a piece of
paper with a number on it.
"Thanks, now you mentioned a code word?"
Amanda and Helen both grinned. Mandy replied, "Well, I don't
have to write it down for you. It's 'Kermit'."
Peter almost laughed, "Kermit?"
"Yes, it needed to be something she wouldn't forget and that a
stranger couldn't guess. When Steve told her that she couldn't use
'Peter', she selected 'Kermit' instead." The mention of her husband's
name brought tears to her eyes once more. "I..I checked when I was
using the phone. Steve's still in surgery. They don't know how long
he'll be there."
Peter gave both women a quick hug, took the directions and headed
for the elevator, wondering what he was going to say to the eight
year old girl that he adored.
*************
"Oooh, I love Saturns." Becca was extremely cheerful as she slipped
behind the wheel. "This one smells new. Do we hafta dump it?"
"Yes. From now on, only one job per car." Carl slid into the
passenger seat. "Are we ready?"
Sid's enthusiastic, "Yes" was accompanied by Mark's more subdued
"I guess."
Carl turned in his seat to glare at the other man, "Mark, I thought
we had this worked out. I choose the targets. I decide how it goes
down."
"What about the cops?"
"I've told you before, no one is going to expect us to strike so
soon after putting a hole in that cop. Becca's been watching this
store for weeks and their regular delivery is scheduled at three
today. The haul should be worth it."
"And I suppose we have to kill the armored car guards?"
"I thought we'd already discussed this. We've already killed
four people, they can't electrocute us more than once. Besides,
with his partner injured, Caine will probably stick close to the
hospital. More deaths is a sure way to draw him out."
"What's so special about Peter Caine?" Mark's anger showed in
his voice.
"Idiot! He saw ME. HE's the reason that those artist sketches
have been showing up all over town. HE's the reason we can't stay
in San Francisco much longer and believe me, we haven't even come
close to hitting all the stores we could have. HE's cost me money,
time and sleep. Besides I just don't like him."
Mark sat silently for a moment as Becca skillfully steered the
car through the maze of one-way streets that made up the downtown
area. Finally he spoke again, "Carl, I'll go along with you for now
because I agree that Caine's the only one who can positively id us.
BUT, after he's dead, I want my share and out."
Carl remained surprisingly calm, "Sure, Mark, no problem. You'll
get yours after we kill him."
*************
The buses, school as well as day-care, were already gone from
the parking lot by the time Peter arrived at the elementary school.
Some parents still sat waiting patiently for straggling students
in the circular drive-way that dominated the front entrance to
the school. Peter slipped Steve's Taurus into an open slot and
climbed slowly from the driver's seat. Bracing himself he walked
to the front entrance and went in search of his little angel.
An excited, "UNCLE PETER", echoed down the halls seconds before
a small whirlwind launched herself into the young cop's arms.
Chattering full-blast, the child pulled herself out of his tight
embrace and taking his hand, tugged him toward the office, "You
have to sign me out, Uncle Peter. Mrs. Crowley would call the
cops if you didn't. Mrs. Crowley, this is my Uncle Peter. He's
really neat. I just KNEW you were gonna pick me up when Momma
called. I'll get my stuff. Let's go. Are we gonna do anything
special?"
The school councilor's sympathetic eyes met Peter's as she
interrupted the child, "Whoa, Katy. Your Uncle's got to give me
the right password and sign you out before you can go anywhere."
She pointed Peter toward the desk and the log book. As the young
cop filled in the pages, Katy started to frown.
"What's wrong, Katy?" Mrs. Crowley asked.
"I forgot something." She slipped up to Peter's side and
tugged on his sleeve, "Uncle Peter, I forgot. You've got to
whisper the code word to me or I can't go with you. Daddy
would be real mad."
Smiling, Peter responded, "Wouldn't want that, now would we?"
Kneeling, he whispered, "KERMIT" in the child's ear.
"Cool, NOW we can leave."
"Just a minute, baby. Uh, Mrs. Crowley, is there..."
"My office, Mr. Caine. Third door to the left. I'll be out
here if you need me."
He nodded his thanks and turned back to the child, "Katy, I need
to talk to you for a moment. Let's go to Mrs. Crowley's office."
As the confused child took her beloved godfather's hand, he once
again pondered the words that would break her heart.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 12 ↑
Little arms encircled his neck as sobs shook the tiny body. Peter's eyes were
squeezed tightly shut in response to the child's pain. He really thought he'd been
prepared to handle the situation. Once again he'd been proven wrong.
"Katy, honey, I need to talk to you." Peter sank into the sofa in the councilor's
office and pulled the little girl toward him. "Why don't you sit next to me?"
She pulled loose from his grip and met his eyes. "Is something wrong with the
baby?"
Confused, he responded, "Oh, no, baby. Why would you ask that?"
"Cause the doctor made Momma stop working. She and Daddy were real worried
about the baby. I'm not sure why, but they talked about it when they thought I
wouldn't hear."
Peter was stunned. He'd known Mandy wasn't working but neither Steve nor Mandy had let on that there was a problem. He gulped and continued, "I see. No nothing's
wrong with the baby." He paused and touched her hair, "Sunshine, your daddy and
I went to try to stop some very bad people today and your d...daddy got hurt."
The child's face paled and her voice trembled, "Hurt? You mean, shot, don't
you?"
"Yes, Katy, I mean shot. He's at the hospital now, in surgery and your Momma
and Grandmomma are waiting there."
Tears started to fall and she lunged for the only comfort available, Peter's arms.
Her tragic wail of "Is my Daddy gonna die?" would haunt the young detective for
years to come.
He held her until the worst of the tremors subsided, gently stroking her baby-soft
hair and providing mute comfort with his touch. As she choked back her remaining
sobs, she pulled away from Peter's arms. "Can we go to the hospital now? I..I want
my Momma!" Katy scrubbed her eyes with tiny fists as she struggled to keep her tears from starting to flow again.
Peter rose quickly, wiped his own eyes and took her hand, "Yes, sunshine. I think
that's a real good idea."
**************
The armored car pulled into the lot at Clark's San Francisco Gold Exchange. Originally built to handle the multitude of gold claims during the gold rush years,
the old building had gradually become a very high-class jewelry store. It specialized
in, of course, gold and had the finest selection of gold and platinum jewelry west of
the Mississippi. Upwards of a million dollars in goods could be found in the vaults
at any given time.
In addition to the armored car guards, Clark's employed plain clothes security
staff, who functioned as surplus sales staff as needed. Today, however, security was heavier than normal. A special shipment of antique gold coins, destined for a collector
in the Caribbean, was stopping at the store for an insurance appraisal.
Becca parallel parked the Saturn near the front of the store, checked her hair and
make-up one last time and climbed out of the little car. She straightened her very
short skirt, took the briefcase that Carl handed her, and walked casually past the
armored car. The auburn curls from her wig cascaded around her face, partially concealing her features as she entered the store. She wandered up and down the
rows of displays for a few moments, then stopped and studied a display of diamonds
near the main cash register. Placing her briefcase on the floor, she asked to examine
one of the rings on display. Reluctantly returning it to the clerk, she wandered
about the store for a few more minutes before exiting as quietly as she'd entered.
**************
Peter made sure Katy's seatbelt was securely fastened, then started Steve's car.
The police radio in the car crackled into life as the pair left the school. As the
young detective listened with horror, the dispatcher related the facts involving an unexplained explosion in an uptown jewelry store. As he listened to the details, he suddenly 'knew' that his thieves had changed their mode of operation. Listening to
the dispatcher request additional support for possible casualties, Peter realized that
no one else yet understood this. Furious, he automatically reached for the siren then remembered the child beside him. 'Justice', and his theories, would have to wait until
she was safely with her mother. Mentally he reviewed the images he'd seen in the robbery back home, studying the faces of the murderers he'd seen. One way or another, he would stop them; he owed it to the victims.
**************
Police, fire and ambulance sirens screamed in response to the alarms going off in Clark's store. Frightened patrons fled the premises as confused security staff attempted
to ascertain the seriousness of the situation. Thick, rancid smoke filled the store and
many of those attempting to stay in the building were forced to flee, tears streaming down their faces.
Three off-duty firefighters were the first rescue personnel on the scene. Pushing
their way past the crowds, they raced through the open doors. The lone guard who'd
remained on duty never saw the man who killed him. Callously kneeling by the still
figure, Carl placed an envelope on the dead man's back and turned to fill his bag with
valuables. The coin collection joined an amazing assortment of jewelry in the thieves'
sacks. As the sound of the approaching sirens grew louder, the three men slipped
unnoticed out the back door.
As they climbed into the Saturn, Sid commented, "Not bad. Didn't take more than
fifteen minutes."
**************
Katy clung to Peter's hand as they exited the elevator on the surgical floor. Helen
Jones held out her arms and the child abandoned Peter immediately. Helen scooped
her granddaughter into her arms and held her tightly. Katy pulled away from her
grandmother and asked tearfully, "Where's Momma?"
Peter turned ghost pale as Helen replied, "Momma's resting. The baby decided
that he wanted to try to come a little early."
"He's here?" Katy's voice expressed excitement, confusion and concern
simultaneously.
"No, sweetie. It's not time for him to be here, so the doctors are giving Momma
medicine to make him not come just yet."
Turning to Peter, the eight year old said accusingly, "You said nothing was wrong
with the baby, Uncle Peter!"
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 13 ↑
Helen did not miss the flash of pain that crossed Peter's face at the
child's accusation, "Katy, sunshine, the baby was fine when Peter left.
He really didn't know."
The little girl flung herself at Peter, "I'm sorry. Don't be mad."
Peter hugged her tightly and kissed her head, "It's OK, Katy, I'm not
mad." Turning to Helen, he said quietly, "Steve?"
Tears filled the older woman's eyes as she thought of her only child,
"Nothing yet, but I...."
"Detective Caine?"
Releasing Katy to her grandmother's care, Peter turned to face Martin
Heller, "Sir?"
"You're with me. Helen, if you need anything..."
"Thank you, Martin." Years of being married to a one cop and mother
to another enabled Helen to quickly pick up on the Captain's desire to
be alone with Peter. Kissing the young man gently on the cheek, she
took Katy's hand and said, "Let's go see if Momma can have visitors,
yet."
"'Kay." The little girl smiled and waved to Peter as they went down
the hall.
Captain Heller watched them leave, "That's a good family."
"Yes, sir, they are. Sir, about the explosion that just occurred..."
"That's why I..."
"Captain, I think the..."
"Caine, if you'll let...."
"store was robbed and..."
"It was..."
"our jewelry store assholes are respons..."
"They are..."
"Sir, if you'll just hear..." Peter paused as the Captain's words sank
in, "You know?"
"Son, do you listen this well when you're home?" Heller held up a
well-tanned hand, "No. Don't answer that. Caine, one guard was killed."
Peter moaned in dismay and slapped his fist into the wall.
Heller placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder, "I know.
This is a real bad crew."
"Police band said there was an explosion. How'd they find out it
was our guys so fast?"
Captain Heller's face grew grim, "They left an envelope, for you.
Come on, son. We're needed on the scene."
Twenty minutes later Peter and Heller arrived on the scene. The
fire trucks had long since left the area, leaving a plethora of police
cars to handle the chaos. The majority of the injuries were minor,
resulting from either the rancid smoke or the haste of the exodus
from the store.
The officer in charge of traffic control waved Heller's car on through
the barricade. The two men exited the vehicle and walked toward
the store. The coroner's wagon stood awaiting receipt of the lone
fatality. A body bag was being loaded as the pair approached.
"Wait!" Peter moved toward the bag. "Open it, please."
"Caine, you don't have to do this." Heller held up his hand to stop
the technician.
"Yes, Captain, I do. I owe it to the victim." Peter met Heller's
eyes for a moment. Sighing in defeat, the Captain nodded his
consent to the waiting tech.
Peter stared morosely at the still form then gave the signal to close
the bag. Captain Heller watched closely as a wide range of emotions
played across the younger man's face. An approaching officer caught
the veteran's attention, "Captain, how's Steve?"
"No word, yet, Dickson. He's still in surgery. What do you have?"
"Tear gas. The explosion was designed to drive people out of
the store. Witnesses describe three 'firemen' rushing into the store.
Only, when the fire trucks arrived, they were no where to be found,
one guard was dead and the store had been liberated of some of its
inventory."
"How much did they get?"
"Unknown, sir. The manager's still taking inventory but she knows
they made off with a coin collection that had just arrived for an
insurance appraisal. Probably worth..."
"Excuse me," Peter could wait no longer, "but there's an envelope
for me? At least that's what the Captain said."
"Ah, Detective Caine? The lab crew should be about finished with
it. Harry!"
"Yeah, Dickson?"
"Clear that envelope yet?"
"Yeah, it's clean."
Peter eagerly snatched the paper from the other man. His face paled,
then flushed red with anger at the document he held. A newspaper
clipping was the lone item in the envelope. Peter's rage grew as he
stared at the picture of Steve and himself, the red X over Steve's
face another reminder of his failure to save his friend.
*************
"MOMMA!" Katy started to dash to the bed but was restrained
by Helen.
"Baby, you need to be quiet."
"It's all right, Helen, Katy come sit by me, please." Mandy eased
herself upright in the bed and pulled her little girl close to her. Brushing
the child's hair out of her eyes, she said, "I'll bet you're scared, aren't
you pumpkin?"
Katy played with the corner of a blanket and reluctantly nodded
her head.
"Well, it's ok to be scared. There's some pretty scary things happening.
The baby got excited but he's calmed down, now. I want you to believe
me when I tell you that I believe that everyone's going to be ok."
"Daddy too?"
"Daddy too. Uncle Peter made sure that the bullet didn't kill Daddy
right off."
"Momma, I..I think I hurt Uncle Peter's feelings." The child looked
up and her words came out in a rush, "I thought he knew about the
baby and wasn't telling me. I said I was sorry but he looked so sad.
Do you think if I draw him a picture it will make him feel better?"
Mandy kissed her daughter gently, "I think that's a good idea."
"I'll draw Daddy one too for when he gets out of surgery."
"That's good baby. You go with Grandma, now. Momma's got
to sleep."
Katy hugged Mandy tightly and slipped off the bed. Helen leaned
over and kissed her daughter-in-law, "You sleep, now. Katy and I
will be outside."
****************
As Peter stared at the newspaper clipping, the world around him
vanished. The essence of the man who'd made the X was so strong,
it almost overwhelmed the Shaolin cop. Oblivious to the concerned
inquiries of the San Francisco cops, Peter found himself transported
through a terrifying collage of blood. Each robbery revealed itself
to the young cop, complete with all their horrific details. As his
'vision' progressed Peter suddenly saw the woman in the park, but
with different hair and in a different setting. His eyes widened as
he realized that somehow he'd now been 'blessed' with a psychic
connection to these madmen. He knew, without a shadow of a
doubt, that he was seeing through a killer's eyes.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 14 ↑
"Caine? Son, are you all right?" Captain Heller and Detective
Mark Dickson had watched with concern as Peter's face drained
of color. They each took an elbow as the younger man started to
sway and helped him to a near-by patrol car. Convinced that Peter
was about to faint, Heller pushed him into the passenger seat and
forced Peter's head to his knees. "Breath deeply, son. Try to relax."
As usual when 'returning' from a vision, Peter was disoriented.
Allowing the Captain to assist him, bought time to regain his composure.
Peter knew that there was no way these strangers were going to buy
his story. "Hell," he thought, "This one even I'm having trouble with."
With the completion of his Shaolin training had come a new awareness,
one immediately apparent with the Eagleton visions. Even those who
knew him well had had difficulty with those. He could only imagine
the kind of ridicule and outright suspicion that would exist among
those who'd only just met him. He huffed in a couple of deep breaths
and slowly raised his head, "Thanks, Captain, I'll...I'll be all right now."
"Peter, I know it's been a tough day for you. Hell, I feel pretty damn
bad myself. Why don't you go back to the hospital? Come to the precinct
tomorrow morning. Maybe by then things will be looking better."
The young detective opened his mouth to protest, but managed to get
out a "Thank you, Captain, I really appreciate that" instead.
"I'll have someone take you back to the hospital."
"Thanks, Captain."
Heller nodded and walked away, leaving Peter to his thoughts.
He thanked the Immortals for whatever insight had caused him to
agree with Captain Heller. While he hated deceiving the older man,
he desperately needed to act upon his vision. He'd return to the
hospital to get Steve's car. Then he'd go on his own search for these
killers.
************
"Lacey." Joe Lacey balanced the phone on his shoulder as he
continued to type his version of the latest robbery. His sources
downtown had revealed to him that the explosion was merely a
cover for another theft by the 'Marauders'. The name had been
coined by a local TV station, needing to boost its ratings, but had
proven to be all too accurate.
["Mr. Lacey. Your paper is well-known for its support of the
local authorities. Your articles are no exception."]
"Thank you. We always try to give the police a fair shake."
["I imagine you have some very well-placed friends on the force."]
Lacey paused, puzzled, wondering where this bizarre conversation
was heading, "I know some people, yes."
["Well, let them know that as long as Peter Caine is involved with
this case, more people will die."]
"May I ask how you know that?" Every reporter's instinct Joe had
was firing warning shots at him. He checked caller-id, and snapped
his fingers to get the attention of one of his co-workers. Handing her
the number, he mouthed, "Police. Now."
The young woman nodded in understanding and flew to her phone.
Lacey's attention returned to the voice on the phone.
["Because, I'm one of the robbers."]
"I see. How can I be sure?"
["Check with your buddies downtown. You'll find that we left
Caine a present, on the body of the guard."] The line went dead.
Lacey cursed under his breath and dialed his sources downtown.
************
Kwai Chang Caine was home. Cheryl had taken good care of his
plants and the Ancient had kindly tended to his apothecary duties.
Still he felt a certain unease. His link with Peter told him that his
son was deeply troubled, but Caine was unable to glean any reason
for Peter's anxiety. Sometimes the older Shaolin regretted that
Peter had progressed so far in his training. The son's natural abilities
often interfered with the father's desire to always protect him.
"Hello, Kermit. Please come in."
The ex-mercenary shook his head, "Caine, you're the only person
I know that I can never sneak up on. Not that I was trying to, you
understand."
"I understand. You have come about Peter."
"Yeah," Kermit hastily added, "He's not hurt. But you already
know that, don't you?"
"I do, but he is deeply disturbed. Why does he not come here
himself?"
"Cause he's in San Francisco. He was sent out there on special
assignment. I got word a little while ago that Peter's friend, Steve
Jones, has been shot."
Caine closed his eyes in dismay. He was well aware that Peter
and Steven were kindred spirits. Steven's injury would explain the
anxiety his son had been feeling. "Steven is still alive?"
"Oh yeah, but he's still in surgery. I came to offer my company
when you go to San Francisco."
Kwai Chang Caine looked deeply troubled, "I cannot go."
"Why not?"
"Peter has not asked me to come."
"So? That's never stopped you before." Kermit winced as he
realized belatedly how the words must sound to the priest.
Caine whispered, "I know, but that was before..."
Frustration laced Kermit's tones, "Before what?"
In a voice almost to soft to be heard, Caine responded, "Before
he completed his training."
"I don't understand."
"Peter is Shaolin, even though he chose not to take the brands. To
interfere, to rush to his aid without his consent, this I cannot do."
"But..."
"No, my friend, Peter will seek my aid when, and if, the time is
right. Then I will gladly honor his request and join him. Not before."
************
Peter thanked the young patrolman who'd taken him back to the
hospital. The young detective watched the patrol car disappear as he
walked toward the building. As soon as the car was out of sight, the
young man headed for the parking lot and Steve's Taurus. He unlocked
the driver's door and slipped quickly behind the wheel. Glancing at the
hospital where Steve and Mandy were confined, he felt a momentary
pang of guilt. Peter sternly reminded himself that his friends were in
good hands; that he was not abandoning them. As he started the car
and drove away, his mind's eye could see Helen Jones and Katy keeping
vigil in the waiting room. "I'm sorry, Helen, Katy, I...I've got to stop
these people before they hurt anyone else. Please understand."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 15 ↑
Peter Caine drove slowly through the San Francisco streets, trying
to determine his next course of action. He'd received limited information
from his first glimpse through his adversary's eyes. The young woman
was obviously part of the team and was also skilled at disguising her
looks. He'd picked up little else - this time. The sun was setting into
the Pacific ocean as Peter suddenly realized he'd made a major decision.
Laughing out loud, he knew that the first thing he needed was a quiet
spot to meditate. Spotting a sign pointing the way to the Japanese
Gardens, Peter maneuvered the car into the correct lane and headed
for what he hoped was a peaceful location.
*************
"Heller. Yes, Commissioner.... Sir, I think that's a mistake....Yes,
sir. You are, sir.... NO! I'll handle it, sir." His fury was such that he
slammed the receiver back into its cradle, cracking the hard plastic.
"Martin? What on earth?" Sara Heller stared in astonishment at
the jagged crack in her kitchen phone.
"I'm sorry, Sara. THAT was the Commissioner."
"I see. You know, you've really got to stop letting that man upset
you so."
Heller grinned sheepishly, "I know, but damn he's stupid. I cannot
believe you used to date his brother."
"Well, if it's any comfort to you, his brother was stupid, too."
Lost in thought, Martin did not respond to his wife's comment.
"It's about those murdering jewel thieves, isn't it? And possibly
Steven Jones?"
"You're too perceptive sometimes, Sara." He sighed heavily,
"Seems an anonymous source, claiming to be one of the robbers,
has threatened more deaths if Peter Caine isn't removed from the
investigation."
"Peter Caine?" Sara looked puzzled, "Isn't he that cop you brought
in to help catch these guys? And isn't he a friend of Steve's?"
"Yes to both questions, but it gets worse. The Commissioner, in
his infinite wisdom, has decided that Peter Caine is no longer welcome
in San Francisco. He's to leave town first thing in the morning. The
airline tickets are on their way over here now."
Sara Heller stared in shock at her husband, "Can he really do that?
I mean, Detective Caine is a friend of Steve's. What if he wants to stay
until Steve's released from the hospital?"
Heller frowned, "I don't know if the 'get out of town' order would
hold up in a court of law, but if he stays and more people die, then I
can see the Commissioner placing the blame for everything squarely
on Caine's shoulders. That boy doesn't need that - he already blames
himself for not stopping the assholes back home, as well as for
Steve getting injured."
"Where's Detective Caine now?"
"At the hospital with Steve's family. I better get over there and
break the news to him. I wanted to check on Steve again anyway.
Haven't heard anything since just after Caine left to go back to the
hospital. Steve was in recovery then, in critical condition."
"The chicken's got another forty-five minutes to cook."
"And?"
"What will it hurt to wait another two hours to give that young man
his marching orders? Leave him alone for a while, Martin."
Martin Heller smiled at his wife of thirty years, "You're special, Mrs.
Heller." He reached for her slender waist.
"No, no, Captain Heller," she gave him a wicked grin, "none of that.
After all, you are going to have to get to the hospital tonight, you know."
*************
To his disappointment, the gardens were closed by the time he arrived.
Making a mental note to come back some time, he glanced across the
street. A group of people were gathered in an open plaza surrounded
by low trees. Knowing crowds were usually associated with bands or
speakers, Peter was pleasantly surprised when the group began doing
Tai Chi. He breathed in the air and realized that even locked out of
the gardens, this entire area offered a sense of tranquillity, enhanced
by the presence of the Tai Chi practitioners. Moving to a relatively
isolated location near the gardens, he breathed in the scent of flowered
shrubs and concentrated on centering himself.
Slowly the area around him faded away, to be replaced by a run-down
room, with graying paint. One man sat on the floor, eyes glued to the
TV. Another man sat on the couch with the young woman in his lap.
From the easy way they moved with each other, Peter guessed they
had long been lovers. He studied the men closely; frowning as he
recognized lover-boy as the man who fired the shots at him. The man
on the floor suddenly turned and began to speak. At first the words
sounded to Peter more like an insect buzzing in his ears than actual
speech. As he forced himself even deeper into the connection, the
sounds became clear. "... again. That last robbery has the cops shook.
But they don't say nothing about that cop you shot, Carl." Carl - Peter
now had a name to go with lover-boy's face. The Shaolin cop was
startled as the man who served as his eyes, began to speak. "We shot,
Sid. We all fired in that direction."
"Yeah, OK, but I still think Carl got him with the 22."
Carl spoke up, "Don't think Sid, your fucking brain might explode."
The girl in his lap started to giggle, "Yeah and even though it's very
small, it'd still mess up the walls."
Peter's 'host' spoke up, "We need to leave town, now. We've got
enough to last a long time. We could split up and ..."
Peter gasped and struggled to maintain his connection as his host
was slammed into a wall. Through the third man's eyes, Peter saw
Carl's face contort into an insane rage. "We leave when I say we
leave and not before and that won't be until that asshole Caine is
dead. Do you understand, Mark?"
Gasping for air, Mark could reply only a choked, "Yes."
Peter started violently at Sid's next words, "I don't get it. If you
want Caine dead, then why did you call that reporter and say we
were gonna kill more people if Caine wasn't pulled from the case?"
"Because that way, no matter what happens, dead people get
blamed on Caine, at least in the press. Should make his life
miserable." Carl laughed at his own ingenuity.
So horrified was Peter by the words he'd just heard, that he ignored,
at first, the fact that Mark had turned away from his companions. As
Mark fought to regain his composure, Peter suddenly realized that the
man was looking out a window. To the young Shaolin's absolute
delight, he knew where these vermin were hiding. Directly across
the street from Mark's window was Helen Jones' Chinatown Shelter.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 16 ↑
So surprised was Peter at the location of the gang, that he found
himself forcefully hurled out of his connection with Mark. Without
knowing it, he fell backwards off the bench he'd sat on, into the
shrubs. He lay quietly for a moment, gasping and trying to reorient
himself. Realizing his location, the young cop quickly attempted to
rise. A stern voice caught his attention before he was able to stand,
"You know, most people prefer to sleep on the bench, or under a
bridge."
A burly hand reached down and physically plucked Peter out of
the bushes. An older cop kept a tight grip on the younger man's arm
as he asked, "What is it, son, drugs? I don't smell alcohol."
Peter blushed with embarrassment, "Oh, no, nothing like that. I,
uh, I got dizzy."
The patrolman studied the younger man's features, "Epileptic?"
"No, sir, not me." Peter prayed the man wouldn't ask for id. The
young Shaolin couldn't quite put his finger on why, but he was loathe
to reveal his identity.
"Inner ear problems?"
"Uh, my hearing has been a little out of kilter, lately."
"Did you drive over here?"
"Yes," Peter was puzzled, "The red Taurus over there."
"Let me see the keys."
Even more confused, Peter handed the man Steve's car keys. The
patrolman thought for a moment, before asking, "Car locked?"
"Yes, why?"
To the young Shaolin's astonishment, the cop pocketed the keys.
"HEY! You can't do that."
Eyeing the younger man closely, the cop smiled, "Apparently I
can. You obviously don't need to be driving, for whatever reason."
"How will I get back to town?"
"Just fixing to tell you. That tour bus over there will give you a
ride in. I'll do you a favor and make sure your car isn't towed."
"Look, there is nothing wrong with me. I am perfectly capable
of driving."
"If you drive as well as you sit, then you'll end up in the Bay.
Nope, either you take the bus or you spend the night in a holding
cell and visit Judge Estes in the morning. Your choice."
"Look, I'm a cop," Peter pulled out his id and showed it to the
older man.
"Son, that only means that you should know better than to mess
with whatever it is that you've been doing. Do us both a favor,
take the bus. I really don't want to have to run you in."
Sighing in defeat, Peter replied, "OK, OK. You win. Keep the
keys."
"Good boy." Releasing Peter's arm, the man headed toward his
car. "And get some help, will ya?"
Startled, Peter responded, "Yes, sir. Uh, about my keys?"
"Come to the 101st, ask for Officer Patrick Malone. I'll hold 'em
for you."
**************
Martin Heller took a deep breath and punched the button for the
surgical ICU floor. The doors slipped open and he headed toward
the waiting area. He passed the nurses' desk and was stopped by
a young woman just changing shifts. "Captain, they're not in the
waiting room. The little girl needed to sleep, so they've gone to her
mother's room."
"Where?"
"Two floors down. 407."
"Thanks. What's Steve's, uh, Detective Jones' condition?"
"Critical, but holding his own. His mother was able to visit
for a few minutes about thirty minutes ago. He's still unconscious
but I think she felt better just seeing him."
"Thanks." Heller opted to take the stairs rather than wait forever
for the elevator. Taking the steps two at a time, he shoved open the
door to the fourth floor, took note of the room numbers and headed
for 407.
He hesitated momentarily before he knocked, but hearing low voices
coming from inside, he rapped gently on the door. It opened a crack to
reveal an exhausted Helen Jones. Her face lit up when she saw her son's
commanding officer, "Come in Martin. Don't worry about waking Katy.
That child could sleep through an earthquake."
As the older man slipped into the room, Mandy startled him by asking,
"Where's Peter?"
Recovering quickly, he responded, "I'm not sure right now. Why?"
"Oh, I just haven't seen him since earlier today and wanted to let
him know I'm all right. Keeping him busy, eh, Captain?"
"You could say that. Well, I can't stay, but I did want to check on
both of you. Call me if you need anything. I'll see you later." Making
a hasty exit, Heller forced himself to get down to the lobby before he
called his precinct. "Adams, any word from Peter Caine?... Great....
He was supposed to come to the hospital, but never got here.... I don't
know.... The thieves were gunning for both Steve and Caine. I hope
they didn't get him... On the other hand, that young man had better
NOT be tracking these guys alone."
******************
Peter's developing Shaolin skills were being sorely tested. Desperate
to leave the garden area, he'd finally managed to unlock the car. "Just
like Pop," he thought with satisfaction. Checking the owner's manual,
he'd found the emergency key. "Why is it," he wondered, "that people
leave these in the glove compartment? Good thing though, I don't
think I could start the car without a key," he grinned to himself,
"at least, not yet."
The streets of Chinatown were basically deserted by the time Peter
drove through the ornate gates marking the entrance to the primary
tourist area. He continued down the road, turned and slipped the car
easily into a parking place near the shelter. As he pulled the emergency
brake into position, he wondered again how the locals coped with
parking on the hilly streets. Carefully surveying the landscape, he
settled on the old rundown hotel across the street as the probable
location of his thieves. Peter hurriedly entered the hotel, keeping a
close watch for the people he pursued. He grinned as he spotted
the elderly desk clerk snoring softly, newspaper dangling from one
hand. Not wanting to startle the old man, Peter spoke quietly,
"Excuse me."
Nothing. His next attempt was louder, "Excuse me!" Still nothing.
Finally, in exasperation, Peter tried a third time, "EXCUSE ME!"
"What!" The startled man jumped, dropping the paper to the
floor. Glaring accusingly at the young man, he snarled, 'You didn't
have to shout."
Acknowledging his guilt, Peter smiled agreeably, "I'm sorry, I
wasn't thinking. Look a friend of mine is supposed to be staying
here, with three friends of his. Could you check?"
"Name?"
Peter took a chance, "That's the problem, Mark left me a message
that Carl had checked them in, but didn't leave me Carl's last name.
It's Carl and his girlfriend, another man and Mark."
"Friends of yours, eh?"
"Yes, they are. Can you tell me what room?"
"329."
Peter could barely contain his excitement, "Thank you very much,"
was all he said as he started for the stairs.
"They're not there."
Peter whirled, "What?"
The old man checked his watch, "Yeah, left about an hour and a half ago.
Made enough damn noise."
"But...but, I just saw...I thought..." Peter's thoughts were spinning wildly.
"Not them you didn't, all four stormed outta here like the devil himself
was after them."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 17 ↑
Still stunned by the discovery that his prey was gone, Peter left
the hotel and sank gratefully into the driver's seat of the Taurus.
Slamming his fist against the steering wheel, he winced as he
inadvertently hit the horn. "Damn it! We were connected. I was
seeing through that Mark character's eyes. Or..or..." Peter tried in
vain to calm down, "Or was I seeing what had already happened?
What the hell good is that, Pop? I can't find them if my 'visions' are
of the past. But if it was the future, then where..." Running his fingers
through his hair, he focused for a moment solely on calming himself.
Slowly but surely his breathing leveled out and he regained his center.
"That's better. OK, the clerk didn't say they'd checked out so with any
luck, they'll be back tonight. I'll just do a stake-out here." Suddenly
he realized that not only did he have no backup, no one knew where he
was or what he was doing. "But," he reasoned, "they wouldn't believe
me anyway. I can just see Heller assigning a stake-out here because
I had a vision of the past, present or maybe the future. Yeah, they'd
lock me away. Hopefully, I'll have something for the Captain in the
morning. I wonder how Steve and Mandy are?" Peter stared for a
moment at the car radio, then shut it off, feeling more than a little guilty
as he clicked the knob. That avenue for information was closed for
a while.
******************
Mark sat gloomily in the smoke filled bar. He couldn't believe
that Carl had made him do this. It was getting late, he was tired and
tomorrow would be a busy day, if Carl's plans were to be believed,
and Mark had learned from long experience that Carl rarely changed
his mind. "Damn," he thought, "Bed would feel so good." He glanced
worriedly around the room. It helped a little to know that Carl and
Becca sat across the room, in case this turned out to be a trap. Sid
manned the car for a fast get away if need be. Mark hurriedly put out
his fifth cigarette in less than an hour, wondering again about the safety
of meetings arranged on the Internet, particularly those arranged on
the spur of the moment...
"MARK!"
The young man jerked away from the window and whirled around,
"What?"
"Now that I've got your attention, you have a new job."
"And that would be?"
"These coins need to be unloaded. My buyer can't use them, too
easy to trace."
"And the jewelry isn't?" Mark's confusion was evident in his voice.
"God, Sid's rubbing off on you. The gold gets melted down and the
stones get broken apart or cut. Completely untraceable."
"I see. You want me to find a buyer on the Internet."
"You're finally catching up with me."
As Mark opened his laptop, he muttered, "I'm thrilled."
A tall man in jeans and a brightly colored shirt sank into the empty
seat at his table. Mark smiled as he saw the purple carnation in the
man's pocket. One of similar color rested in his own.
"You have something I want." The man spoke softly, obviously
afraid to be overheard.
"I'll just bet I do. Come outside."
"Outside?"
"You didn't really think I'd have the stuff in here?"
A hesitant, "No", then the man rose to follow the young thief.
A young waitress plopped a couple of drinks down on the table in
front of Carl and Becca, her eyes never leaving the slender figure of
the man leaving with Mark.
"Something wrong, honey?" Becca asked curiously.
"Huh, oh no, sugar. It's just Jacko never ceases to amaze me."
"Jacko?"
"The tall guy walking out the door."
"Why? What's so special about him?"
"Oh, half the neighborhood knows he's an undercover cop, but he
still manages to get drug dealers off the streets." She took their money
and wandered away. Checking her customers a few minutes later,
she noticed that the pair was gone, leaving their drinks untouched,
and to her disappointment, no tip.
******************
Peter climbed out of the car and headed for a near-by pay phone.
Dropping his change into the slot, he asked the operator to connect
him with the hospital. He spent the next few minutes being bounced
from one information area to the next. After depositing his second
quarter, he was finally connected to the correct room.
Helen's voice answered the phone, ["Hello?"]
"Helen? This is..."
["Peter. I know your voice, son. Where are you?"]
Knowing the older woman would instantly detect a lie, he opted
for the literal truth, "On stake-out. How are Steve and Mandy?"
["Mandy's asleep, but she'll be fine with bed rest and less stress.
Steve's in ICU but is beginning to improve."]
"Katy?"
["Being eight. She's sound asleep. Don't worry. Kids are tough."]
"How are you?"
["Better now that Steve's starting to improve and Mandy's OK. Are
you all right?"]
"Fine, just busy."
["Martin didn't say what you were doing when he came by tonight."]
"Captain Heller came by?" Peter cringed, thinking, "I'm dead."
["Of course. Steve is one of his officers."]
"Oh, yeah. Well, Helen, I've got to go. I..I'll check in later." He
quickly disconnected the line and returned to Steve's car. He glanced
at the hotel for a moment longer to remind himself that his task was
important. The powers that be could have his hide later. As he settled
back for what might be a long wait, his eyes never left the front door
of the old building.
******************
Helen quietly placed the receiver in its cradle. She stared thoughtfully
at the phone, her mind reviewing the conversation with Martin Heller and
the young man she loved like a son. Shaking her head she thought, "Peter,
baby, what have you done now?"
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 18 ↑
A faint haze hung over the night as Peter thrust open the dirty
door and walked quickly out of the delapidated building. A neon
sign, hanging loosely over the door, blinked an uninviting welcome
to J_KE's, the A having burned out long ago. He led the way up
the alley toward his car. The Saturn sat isolated in darkness,
shadows concealing the fact that a figure sat behind the wheel.
He could sense the tension in the man that followed him. Turning,
he spoke softly, "Over here, if the price is right."
"I'd like to see the merchandise."
"No problem." Peter fumbled clumsily with the keys for a moment
before he threw open the trunk.
"Hey, COP!" Peter whirled in unison with the tall man and stared
with horror at the business end of a 22. The gun fired in what appeared
to be slow motion...
"NOOOOO!" Peter screamed as he leaped forward, jamming his
abdomen into the steering wheel. Breathing heavily, he glanced wildly
around him and grabbed for his chest. Finding no blood, he struggled
to gather his thoughts. "Vision. That was all, a vision." He gasped
in relief, then froze, "Oh, God. The cop. The tall man was a cop.
Carl was shooting the cop." He started the engine and jerked the
Taurus away from the curb. "There may be time. Please, God, let
me be in time. OK, think, THINK Dammit! Where were they?"
He frantically replayed the chain of events in his vision, until he
focused on the sign over the bar door. "J_ke's, Jake's. I know that
place. Where? Four blocks. It's four blocks from here. No, the other
way." He quickly made an illegal U-turn and jammed the pedal to the
floor. Cutting on the car radio, he broadcast a hasty, 'Officer Needs
Assistance' call. Arriving at his destination, he slammed on brakes
and bolted from the car toward the alley. The tall man was following
a young blonde man up the alley, away from Peter and toward a parked
Saturn. A man and woman exited Jake's just ahead of the young
detective. Running as fast as he could, Peter screamed a warning as
the man in front of him pulled out a gun and took aim at the figures
retreating up the alley. The shout of, "Hey, COP!", echoed in the
Shaolin cop's ears as he tried to avert disaster.
Startled Carl whirled and got off a single shot, at Peter. The intended
target drew his own weapon and started forward, only to be forced to
leap to one side by the motion of the Saturn. Sid, for once, had been
paying attention. At the first sign of trouble, he'd thrown the car into
reverse and plowed backwards up the alley. Mark raced after the car
and helped Becca force a furious Carl into the back seat. He then
flung himself into the front as Becca slammed the back door shut.
Mark screamed, "Drive!"
"NO! FUCK YOU! I WANT HIM DEAD!" Carl raged and tried
to open the door. A near miss from the undercover cop's weapon,
calmed the angry man's temper, "Not backwards, stupid, forwards.
Get us the HELL outta here!"
Sirens in the distance closed on their location as Jacko raced
toward the recumbent form of his mysterious benefactor.
***********
The ringing phone pierced the night and Sara Heller groaned as
Martin answered sleepily, "Heller." Sitting bolt upright, he swung
his long legs out of the bed, "WHEN? ... How is he?" The latter
question pulled Sara completely awake. "I'll be right there.... No,
I'll make the call." He disconnected, then hurled the phone across
the bedroom.
Sara gently rubbed her husband's shoulders, "Martin?"
"I'm getting too old for this, Sara."
"What's happened?"
"Peter Caine took a slug meant for an undercover cop."
Horrified, his wife asked, "How is he?"
"Unconscious and bleeding. That's all I know. Look, go back to
sleep. I'm going to the hospital." Sara lay quietly as she watched
her husband dress.
"Be careful, Martin."
"Always." He smiled as he kissed her good-bye. "I'll keep you
posted."
***********
The ambulance had already departed for another run as Martin
Heller arrived at the hospital. The Captain raced into the emergency
room just as the young loaner cop disappeared behind the elevator
doors. Jack O. Lawrence paced the halls as his Captain approached.
"Jacko? What the hell happened?"
"Damned if I know, Captain. I got a nibble on the Internet chatroom
I set up and decided to reel it in. Met the guy at Jake's Bar and Grill."
He grinned sheepishly, "The next move was stupid on my part. I
mean the whole thing smelled to high heaven. I went with blondie
to the alley in front of Jake's to get the merchandise, which I don't
think was drugs. Any rate, I was getting kinda nervous then I hear
this scream of 'Nooooo'. Blondie and I turned in unison and I saw
another man with a 22. He had it raised, I'm sure it was at me, but
he whirled and fired at the other guy. The rest you know. Captain,
his id says his name is Peter Caine and that he's a cop but not from
San Francisco. Who is he?"
"The only man who's ever really seen the Marauders. They gunned
down Steve today."
"I heard." Jacko's voice was grim, "I also heard he's improving."
"You heard correctly. At any rate, are you sure these punks were
gunning for you?"
"Yes. Caine saved my life. If he hadn't screamed a warning I'd be
history now. Why, what's going on?"
"The thieves are gunning for Peter also. I thought maybe... oh well,
get with the police artist and put together pictures of this crew. I've
got phone calls to make."
"Captain, not that I'm not grateful for my life, but why was Caine
there tonight?"
"I wish I knew, Jacko, I really wish I knew."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 19 ↑
A scream of "Peter" pierced the tranquil darkness of Kwai Chang
Caine's home. The priest's eyes shot open as he tried to dispel the
dream which he knew was not a nightmare. He slipped quickly off
his cot and settled into a full lotus position on the floor. Pain coursed
through his body as he fought to control his breathing. As the older
man regained his center, the pain faded away until nothing remained
but echoes, too dim to register with normal senses. To the worried
father, however, the glimmer of pain meant his son was injured, how
badly he was not sure, but the boy was unconscious. "Boy!", Caine
laughed bitterly at the thought. Peter had long since left boyhood
behind him, but try as he might, Caine often could not see his only
child in any other way. The destruction of the temple had stolen all
other memories from him. To Kwai Chang Caine, Peter was too
frequently still that twelve year old boy screaming for his aid. The
remainder of the night was spent in lonely vigil, praying for a sign
that the youngest Caine was all right.
*************
Helen Jones found herself in a hospital waiting room for the
second time in less than twenty-four hours. Martin Heller started
to greet the bleary-eyed woman as she walked through the door, but
she was in no mode for the normal pleasantries, "Martin, how's
Peter? What happened?"
The Captain replied, "I'm told he'll be fine. The bullet just grazed
his head."
"Thank God! Where is he?"
"He was unconscious at the scene. Jacko said he took a hard hit
to the head when he went down so they're doing a catscan to make
sure he doesn't have a concussion. Looks like he may be a resident
here for a few days too."
Helen smiled, "Martin, you don't know Peter Caine."
"I'm sorry?"
"That young man will be out of here as soon as he can stand up
without falling over."
*************
The sun was rising as Caine got the assurance he was so urgently
seeking. Kermit Griffin arrived with the dawn, and shook his head
in disbelief as the older man quickly asked, "How is my son?"
"He'll be fine, Caine. Just heard from San Francisco, a Captain
Heller. He was shot, but not injured severely. Bullet nicked him
but he was knocked out.
Caine breathed a sigh of relief, "He is still unconscious?"
"Yes," Kermit grinned, "Once they were sure he didn't have a
skull fracture or concussion, the doctor took some preventative
measures. Peter's reputation has preceded him. Based on his LAST
stay in the hospital out there, the doctor ordered a sedative to keep
him out for a few more hours. For some absurd reason, they want
to keep him there."
"How is Steven?"
"Improving but still in bad shape. Mandy's better, too."
The Shaolin was shocked, "Amanda has been injured?"
"I'm sorry, Caine, I just found out myself. Amanda's had some
problems with her pregnancy and the stress of Steve's shooting has
put her on bed rest." Kermit hesitated, "Caine, I know you didn't
want to interfere without Peter asking, but the Captain has ordered
me to San Francisco. I figured now that Peter's been injured, you
might change your mind and go with me."
Relief was plainly visible in the father's face, "I will go."
*************
Sid slammed the newspaper against the nearest wall, "I don't
believe it! Nothing. A cop gets shot in an alley and it's not even in
the paper."
Carl looked knowingly at Mark, "You see..."
"I suppose it's possible."
"I'm sure of it."
Sid looked from one man to the other in confusion, "What's possible?"
"That Caine's dead." Carl looked smug, "I t