Inheritance - by Pho
part - 01
"Bill, bill, junk, junk, bill." Peter Caine casually thumbed
through his mail on the ride up to his floor. Exiting the elevator,
he thought, "Just once, I'd like to get something interesting - like,
maybe - the winning entry in a sweepstakes. Oh, well." Opening
his door, he flung his mail onto a nearby table. A cream colored
envelope took on a life of its own and floated to the floor at Peter's
feet.
Bending to retrieve it, he was startled to see the return
address. "Finche and McClary, Attorneys at Law, San Francisco,
California? What the hell?" Tearing quickly into the mystery
envelope, he removed a neatly typed letter. Surprised by its
contents, he had to read it twice to understand its importance.
"You appear to be excited, my son." Kwai Chang
Caine's voice behind him, caused Peter to start violently.
"Geez, Pop, don't .. do .. that!"
"I am sorry, my son, I did not intend to startle you."
"Startle doesn't half cover it - but, yes, I am excited,
very excited." Peter's eyes glowed in anticipation and delight.
Caine raised an eyebrow inquisitively, encouraging Peter to
continue, "This letter is from a law firm in San Francisco.
Apparently, their firm has handled the affairs of Mom's
family for over one hundred years. They've been trying to
track a descendant of Laura Marie Webster for almost thirty
years. She died, let's see," Peter quickly glanced again at
the letter, "Here it is - she died about 70 years ago. At any
rate, it seems they've been holding an inheritance of some sort
from her since before Mom died. It appears that last recipient
died with no heirs so the inheritance reverted back to the
original owner's will. They say that if I can send them proof,
notarized proof that I am Mom's son, and therefore related to
Laura Webster, they'll turn this inheritance over to me."
Caine smiled at his son's excitement, "Do they say what
the inheritance is?"
Peter glanced again at the letter, "Uh, no. But it doesn't
really matter, Pop. It's something from Mom's side of the family.
I don't have anything of hers except for the locket. This is great,
better than great, it's fab..." Peter's face suddenly fell, "Oh, I
hope it isn't money."
"And if it is?" Caine asked.
"Well, that would be OK," Peter conceded, "But I'd
rather have something that belonged to Mom's family. I mean,
I've got the Caine journals that tell me about you, Grandfather,
and Great-grandfather, but Mom's people have always been a
mystery."
"I am sorry, Peter. Your mother's closest relatives were
dead before she and I were married. The subject of her family
rarely came up. I am sure she would have told you anything
you wanted to know, if she had lived."
"Oh, I know, it's just that - hey, Pop, you do know
where my birth certificate is, don't you?" Peter's face was
awash with panic.
Peter was so obviously concerned, that Caine suppressed
an urge to tease him, "My son, I would imagine it is Braniff."
Peter froze, looking chagrined, "Oh, yeah." Brightening,
he continued, "OK, tomorrow, I'll get hold of Braniff city hall
and get proof that I'm me. Let's go eat."
Over the two years since they had been reunited, Caine
had become reacquainted with his son's rapidly changing
thought processes. Laughing out loud at the abrupt turn of
thoughts, he commented, "That is a fine idea, my son, provided
I choose the restaurant, this time."
"Pop, I'm crushed - that deli we had lunch in yesterday
even had a vegetarian burger."
"I prefer to be able to identify my vegetables, my son."
Caine replied, smiling, "Shall we go to Wong's?"
Peter returned Caine's smile with one of his own, "OK,
I haven't eaten there all week." As the pair left the apartment,
Peter's thoughts turned once again to the contents of the letter.
"You know, Pop, I'm not even real sure who Laura Webster was.
Mom's last name was Carter. Wait a minute, I remember you
telling me once that Mom was named after her Grandmother.
I'll be that's who this Webster woman was. Of course, she
could have been a great-aunt or a cousin or ..."
"Peter."
Totally oblivious to his father's voice, Peter rambled on.
"Gee, Pop, you know, I might have inherited a piece of furniture
or maybe some sort of, what's it called, crochet"
"Peter."
"- I hear they were really big on crochet and needlepoint
way back then."
"Peter."
"Whoa - there might be family pictures or a diary or ..."
"Peter!"
"What?"
A gentle hand impacted unexpectedly with Peter's jaw
as Caine finally got his son's attention. "Idle speculation will
only lead to disappointment."
Peter bowed his head in embarrassment, "Yes, Father."
The two men continued down the street in silence,
for about thirty feet, before Peter renewed the conversation.
Caine sighed, and privately hoped that Peter's inheritance
would be a silent one.
***********************************************
A tall, lanky man exited Peter's building shortly after the
Caines. Crossing the street to a waiting blue van, he studiously
ignored the departing pair. Climbing into the van, he growled,
"My information was correct, he got the letter. Fortunately
the bugs we planted have given us an edge. Peter Caine has no
idea what he has inherited - or its value."
"Want us to kill him now, boss?" One of the thugs
waiting in the van smiled in anticipation.
"No! Idiot! He is not to be harmed. Let's see if I can
make this simple for you. Caine will prove his existence and
collect his inheritance. This gets the item I want out of the
control of the attorneys and out of San Francisco at the same
time. There will be plenty of time to retrieve it, after it arrives
here. Remember, EVERYONE, Peter Caine must NOT be harmed.
It your responsibility to ensure that he survives until I have what
I want." Glancing at the mangy crew in front of him, he sighed,
then continued, "Let's make this even easier. If Peter Caine dies,
BEFORE I give the order, then ALL of you die. Are we clear on
this?"
The seven men in the van paled visibly as they nodded
their understanding.
"Fine, then I suggest you get out there and keep him
alive. Oh, and don't let him catch you."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 02 ↑
The first letter from the attorneys had arrived on
Monday. On Tuesday Peter contacted Braniff city hall to get
a copy of his birth certificate. The resultant paperwork rivaled
anything on his desk. By Thursday he had completed, and
returned, via certified mail, all the documents from Braniff.
By Friday, the entire 101 st precinct was discussing ways to
kill him.
"If I hear one more word about that inheritance, I'll
rip his lungs out, I swear I will." Kermit fumed as he nursed
his drink in Chandler's.
"I'll gladly hold him down while you kill him." Frank
Strenlich muttered, not entirely to himself.
"And that damned letter, if he mentions that letter one
more time, I will not be responsible for my actions." Mary
Margaret's voice contained an unusual chill.
Only Jody remained unfazed, "OK, gang, I know he's
talking a lot about that letter and the inheritance but he's really
excited about getting something from his mother. I mean, here's
a guy, who never knew his mom and he suddenly gets offered a
piece of her family history. Please, I vote we cut him a little
slack."
The rest of the 101 st looked suitably abashed at her
words. The conversation turned to other matters as Peter
Caine walked quickly up to the bar.
"How long does it take for certified mail to get through?"
Peter asked the question for the fiftieth time.
"Peter, we are all really sick of hearing about the letter,
your inheritance, etc, etc. Now - please just get over it and talk
about something else." With that Jody stalked away, leaving a
stunned group of detectives hovering around the bar.
"What, What'd I say?" Peter asked confused.
***********************************************
Two hours later Peter was busy driving two Shaolin to
distraction.
"Master, is there some law of nature that is unknown
to me?" Caine's soft words ended both Peter's restless pacing,
and unending flow of words as his son skidded to a halt and
stared at his father.
"Indeed, my dear friend, to what do you refer?" The
Ancient's eyes sparkled with delight.
Caine turned to face Peter, "My son, you are aware that
it takes a great deal of sunshine, rain and fertilizer for plants to
grow quickly?"
Peter nodded, puzzled.
"Then I can only conclude, that there is a law of nature
that moves a letter to its destination more quickly if it is assisted
on its journey by unending chatter?"
"Funny - you two are really very funny." Peter
sighed, "But I get the picture, and believe me you just told me
to shut up more politely than the gang at the precinct did. OK,
no problem, I'll just talk about something else. Is that all right
with you, Father?"
The seldom used title 'Father' confirmed what Caine
had belatedly sensed in Peter's emotions. He mentally chastised
himself for not noticing his son's inner turmoil sooner. It was
small consolation to the Shaolin that Peter's skills had increased
to the point that he was sometimes able to conceal his emotions
from his father. Glancing quickly at Lo Si, Caine realized that
the older man had come to the same conclusion.
"I apologize, my friends." Lo Si said, "I fear I have
over-stayed my welcome. Good-bye." Lo Si nodded to his
friends and slipped away, leaving father and son alone.
Caine studied Peter's back for a moment before speaking,
"Peter."
No response.
"Peter."
"What?" Peter's voice was choked with emotion.
Caine winced at the pain in the young voice, ""I am
sorry, my son."
Without turning around, Peter quietly asked, "About
what, Father?"
Kwai Chang Caine placed a steady hand on Peter's
shoulder, and gently forced his son to turn toward him. Cupping
Peter's chin in his other hand, Caine lifted Peter's head until he
had no choice but to meet his father's eyes.
"I am sorry, my son," Caine repeated, "I did not
understand until now how deeply this inheritance had affected
you."
"It's all right, Pop." Peter's voice was still unsteady,
and his eyes threatened to spill over at any moment.
"No, it is not 'all right'. My son, please, you are very
disturbed. After all this time, can you not share your feelings
with me?"
Peter closed his eyes and fought for control. When
he re-opened them, the tears had abated somewhat. "I, well,
I.." He stopped, took a breath, then his eyes got a far away
look.
***FLASHBACK********
"You can't take it, it's mine!" the child's voice trembled.
Cuffing the boy roughly, the man asked impatiently, "Did
the old Chinese man the social worker said you lived with, give you the
knife? What did the heathen scum tell you to do with it?"
"Nothing. I..I'm not supposed to do anything with
it. Please let me keep it. I promise, I won't take it out of my
drawer. No one even has to know I've got it. Please!"
"No, Peter!" The man was no longer attempting to
control his anger. "Now, where did you get it?
"I.. It was my father's. Please, Mr. Smith, I don't have
anything else of his. Not even a picture." Tears were flowing
freely down the young teen's face.
"Peter, I have told you no for the last time. Now give
it to me!"
Slowly the distraught child passed the ceremonial
dagger to the director of Pineridge.
"That's better." The man eyed the boy for a moment,
then put his hand on his belt, "and NO more tears. You're much
too old to cry and if you continue, I WILL give you something
to cry about. Do I make myself clear? ANSWER ME!"
The terrified thirteen year old managed a choked "Yes
sir", as he fought a desperate battle to conceal his tears... and
fears.
***END FLASHBACK***********************
"It's nothing, nothing at all, Father." Peter hung his
head in an attempt to hide his thoughts from his father, "Just
that at the orphanage, they wouldn't let me keep your dagger.
The director thought, well," He stopped, took a breath, "I guess
he thought someone might get hurt with it. Paul found out about
it years later and got it back for me as a high school graduation
present." Without knowing he spoke aloud, he added softly,
"It was all I had left of you."
Distressed by his son's inner turmoil, Caine pulled Peter
into a fierce embrace and thought, "So young to have so much pain."
Aloud he asked, "Peter, my son, please tell me, what frightens
you now?"
Startled, Peter drew back and stared at Caine. "Frightens
me? I...I hadn't thought of it that way."
Caine watched his son closely as Peter struggled with
his thoughts.
"Pop, I guess I'm scared that what I've inherited is
stocks or money or something like that. Nothing FAMILY. Or
worse, that it is something tangible and for some reason I won't
get to keep it, just like the dagger."
Caine's reply was interrupted by Peter's cell phone.
"Caine... WHAT, WHEN.. Great - I'll be right there."
Peter quickly hung up and looked at his father, "Gotta go, Pop,
my apartment's been burgled." Without another word, he
fled his father's rooms, leaving behind only his concerned
parent and many lingering emotions.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 03 ↑
"Did your search of Caine's apartment turn up anything
from San Francisco?"
"No, sir, nothing."
"How many listening devices did you recover?"
"Three, Mr. Smith" the man's voice now trembled,
"I..I know you said there were four but ...." He closed his
eyes, realizing that his death was but minutes away.
The tall man slid his fingers lovely up and down the
barrel of a small revolver. Taking careful aim at the minion
before him, he pulled the trigger. Click. Nothing happened.
"I lied. It's nice to find an idiot with courage. You've
earned a bonus at the conclusion of this affair." With that he
took the three bugs and left. His unnerved subordinate proceeded
to the nearest bar and drank himself into oblivion.
************************************************
Peter Caine arrived at his building, slid his Stealth into
his parking place, and raced up the stairs to his apartment. His
door was guarded by a uniformed patrolman, whom Peter knew
from the 101 st. Peter nodded a greeting but didn't slow down
on the journey into his home. The apartment was a shambles.
Peter stared in dismay at the sight before him. From the entry
hall he could see that every drawer in sight had been dumped,
likewise the storage units in his living room had been over-
turned. The upholstered chairs had been slit and the stuffing
strewn throughout the room.
Kermit's voice could be heard in the bedroom, "Have
you finished in here?"
"Kermit?" Peter called, shock coloring his voice.
"Ah - Peter, come check out the bedroom." Kermit's
tone remained neutral.
Peter forced himself to walk through the disaster that
had been his living room to his bedroom. Kermit was standing
in the center of the room, surveying the damage. The lab crew
was just finishing up and packing to leave. The bedroom was,
if anything, in worse shape than the rest of the apartment.
Kermit spoke as the young detective stared dumbfounded
at what was left of his bedroom, "The maintenance man came in
to fix your kitchen sink, found this mess and called it in. I was in
the area on another call and recognized the address when it came
over the radio." He paused, "Now for the million dollar question
- is anything missing?"
"How the hell would I know?" Peter groused angrily.
Kermit lowered his ever-present green glasses slightly,
"Well, detective, you know the drill. I suggest you find out."
Peter glared for a moment at his friend, who only returned
the favor. Shaking his head, Peter started to laugh. "OK, Kermit
you win." One hour later, it was apparent that nothing seemed to
be missing.
"This is too strange. Nothing's missing but it sure looks
like someone was looking for something." Peter's expression
was confused as well as angry.
"Oh, yeah, but what?" Kermit was equally baffled.
"Excuse, me, sir." The young officer at the door was
speaking. "There's a lady here who wants to speak with Mr.
Caine."
"Send her in, Peterson," Kermit responded for his
unusually silent friend. The cop nodded and opened the door.
A small, elderly woman entered with deceptive speed, stopping
to stare in amazement at the condition of the rooms.
Peter smiled ruefully, "Hello, Mrs. Jenkins, what can
I do for you?"
His voice got her attention, "Oh, Peter, I am so sorry
about your place. I can't believe that I didn't hear anything
next door."
"Thanks, Mrs. J, it looks like I've got a lot of work to
do. Now what can I help you with?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. This package came for you this morning,
registered mail so I took the liberty of signing for it. I hope you
don't mind?"
"No, Mrs. J, no problem, I appreciate the help. Thanks."
"You're welcome and if you need help cleaning up, I've
got a niece that will ..."
Peter was walking with her to the door, and deftly cut her
off, "Thanks, but I've got it under control." He shut the door
quickly and leaned against it sighing.
"Nice lady." Kermit carefully hid his amusement.
"Oh, yeah."
"What's in the package?"
Peter glanced at the over-sized envelope, "Great!
Kermit, this is from those attorneys in San Francisco, Finche
and McClary." His wrecked rooms were forgotten as he eagerly
tore into the package.
"Oh, goody."
"Hmm?"
"Nothing, Peter." Kermit said, then thought, "I know
I'm going to regret this." Aloud, he went on, "Peter, much as
I really don't want to know, what's in the package and could
it be what 'they' were searching for?"
"What?"
"Detective Caine!" Kermit was shouting now.
"You don't have to shout, Kermit, I heard you."
"Then, why, what, oh never mind!" Kermit's frustration
with the younger man was showing.
Peter grinned impudently at the ex-mercenary. It was
a rare thing to see his friend nonplused, and Peter was relishing
this site. Even as he watched Kermit, Peter realized that the
older man could be right. He removed the contents of the large
envelope and began to review them.
"Well, here's a very old key and some photos of a trunk.
Wait a minute - hell - the letter says that the key is to the trunk
and that the trunk is being shipped and should be here within a
week. How did they send it, Pony Express?"
Peter flung the key and photos down on the table nearest
him in disgust. "Just great. I don't even have a clue when it
will arrive."
Kermit meantime had picked up the pictures. "Peter,
have you looked at these, I mean, really looked?"
"Yes, well, no, not really - why?"
"Well, kid, it's kinda hard to tell, but look closely at
the pictures. If I'm not mistaken, those designs look vaguely
Oriental to me."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 04 ↑
Peter rudely ripped the photo Kermit was holding from
his friend's hand, barely missing tearing it, "What! Oriental?"
The former mercenary chose to temporarily ignore his
young friend's behavior and turned his attention to the large
mailing envelope. "And Peter, you missed something inside
of this." As Peter watched, Kermit withdrew a small piece
of folded parchment. Unfolding it, the two men stared at the
neat rows of Chinese script.
" Kermit, I can't read this, I think I better go get Pop."
"I am here, my son, how may I be of assistance?" Caine
stood staring at the apartment, his face, for once, betraying his
distress.
"Dammit Pop! Uh, just how long have you been there?"
"Long enough." Replied the Shaolin, quickly returning
his expression to neutral, as Peter and Kermit turned to face him.
Peter choked back a retort as he handed his father the
parchment and said, "This was in a package that came about my
inheritance. There's a key and some photos of an old trunk,
AND the designs on the trunk look Oriental. Can you read
this paper?"
"Yes, my son," Caine said, reviewing the paper in front
of him. "It is written in Mandarin and appears to be a list of
some sort, almost an inventory list but there are names on it.
Perhaps it is a list of articles and their owners."
"Could you write down what it says for me?" Peter
asked, "Kermit seems to think that whoever trashed my place
may have been looking for the envelope. I'll get you some
paper and , eh," Peter stopped and looked around helplessly.
Kermit handed Caine his notepad and a pen.
Caine bowed to Kermit while Peter set his coffee table
upright. Seating himself carefully on the edge of the trashed
sofa, Caine began translating the list, reading aloud as he went.
"Chou, W - prayer book
Som, KR - I Ching
Xao, P - Flint bag
Shang, C - dZi beads
Zhou, AF - prayer wheel" Caine suddenly stopped
speaking, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"Pop?" Peter moved closer to his father, concerned by
the expression on the older man's face, "Pop, what is it?"
Caine cleared his throat, then said, "the next two names
on the list are familiar to me."
"What!, Who?" Caine held up his hand to stop Peter's
questions.
"The next names on the list are Po and ... Caine. The
items associated with them are a 'dragon walking stick' and a
'gold and jade Dorji'."
Peter's jaw dropped noticeably as Kermit asked "What's
a 'Dorji'?"
Ignoring his son's reaction, Caine replied automatically,
"A Dorji is a symbol of power, thought to ward off evil. Its physical
appearance is a decorated rod connecting two larger ends. The ends
are often decorated as crowns or some mystic symbol."
Peter sank slowly to the floor. "I don't understand. What
does this have to do with my inheritance from Mother's family?
It's got to be some sort of mistake."
"I do not understand either, my son. I am very interested
in seeing the trunk." Caine's voice confirmed his confusion.
Kermit quickly broke in, "Here, these are the pictures
that came with the parchment and here's the key. Can you tell
anything from them?"
Kwai Chang Caine took the objects offered, "I agree
with that the images appear Chinese but the picture is too poor
to know more than that. The key also, tells me nothing. I am
sorry."
Peter sighed in disappointment, "I guess that means
we wait on the trunk."
"Not necessarily. Caine, if you'll finish translating
the list, I'll see if I can track down its origins."
Peter's attention once again returned to his apartment.
The last of the forensics team had long since gone. Leaving
Kermit and Caine to their own devices, Peter disappeared into
what had been his kitchen. Crashing noises, accompanied by
mild cursing soon erupted.
"My son, what are you doing?" Caine's voice held a
note of genuine puzzlement.
"I've found my broom but my trash bags are missing."
Peter was obviously annoyed. "I can't clean this place without
trash bags."
Kermit glanced at Caine, then asked, "Peter, uh, I thought
you had a cleaning lady?"
"Cleaning service, Kermit and my rates will triple if they
have to clean all of this. I'll just pare it down to the size of a
good party."
Confused, Caine looked at Kermit who merely shrugged
and headed for the door, saying, "I see. Uh, Peter, I'm taking
the list with me as I leave. I'll tell Peterson he can leave."
With that the ex-mercenary shut the door behind him.
**************************************************
Morning found Peter Caine on stakeout with a concerned
Jody Powell, "Peter, that's your seventh cup of coffee. What is
going on?"
"I was up late last night cleaning up the mess left by the
burglar AND the forensics crew. Pop helped but it still took a
while to get the place clean enough for the cleaning service to
see. Pop did not understand the concept of partially clean."
"Uh, right." A movement near the top-less bar they were
watching caught her eye. A series of after hours robberies had
left one bartender dead and another in critical condition. "Peter,
over there. Those guys match the descriptions perfectly."
"Got it." Peter was out of the car and moving toward
the building before Jody could get her door open.
"Dammit, Peter, wait for me." Jody hurried after her
partner. By the time Jody got to the sidewalk, Peter had vanished
around the corner of the building.
"Police, Freeze!"
Jody broke into a run as shots were fired. Rounding the
corner with gun drawn, she almost ran down a very confused
Peter Caine.
"Are you hurt? What happened?" Jody gave her partner
the once-over as she glanced down the alley at the inert forms
of the suspects.
Peter was obviously shaken. "They drew on me the minute
I identified myself as a policeman. I was diving for cover behind
the boxes over there, when two more shots were fired. I could see
the suspects fall as I landed." Turning confused eyes toward her,
he went on, "Jody, I never even fired my weapon."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 05 ↑
Peter Caine was exhausted by the time he walked into
Chandler's. It had been over a week since he had last been
there. Peter had spent what seemed an eternity reviewing the
events of the week with Internal Affairs. Since the stake-out
fiasco, four days earlier, there had been three more instances
where his suspect had been shot. In all three cases, he had been
in pursuit, and in true Peter Caine style, without backup. One
victim / suspect had died on the scene; the other two remained
hospitalized in critical condition. He blushed with embarrassment
as he was greeted with cries of "Caine's been living right for a
change" and "Who's your guardian angel?".
"Ignore them, Partner." Jody slapped him on the shoulder.
"I can't, Jody. Three men have died. Two more may die.
Look, it was a mistake to come here tonight. I need some air."
Peter departed as swiftly as he had arrived.
Stepping outside, he walked slowly to his Stealth, head
bowed in thought. His introspection was abruptly interrupted
by five youths in gang colors.
"Guys, I'm a cop." He ducked quickly as a baseball bat
swung at his head. "Damn", he thought, "I didn't see number
six." A swift side-kick took out the base-ball kid as the remaining
gang members swarmed.
Peter's kung fu skills allowed him to more than hold his
own against the violent, but untrained gang members. For a
moment, it appeared that he had the upper hand, then number
six rushed forward with the bat once more. Peter cried out in
pain as the bat impacted with his right calf. He stumbled,
giving the young scum the advantage they had been looking
for in their intended victim. Peter was almost down when one
of the youths jerked, clutched his chest and keeled over dead.
The remaining gang members fled the scene, casting barely
a glance at their fallen comrade.
Kermit, too, left Chandler's early. He was scarcely
through the outside door when the noise of a confrontation drew
his attention. Drawing his gun, he rushed toward the fray.
Finding Peter involved, and down, he aimed his Desert Eagle at
the nearest gang member. A shot rang out, the youth fell and
the remainder fled the scene.
"Thanks, Kermit, but what happened? Did you miss?"
Peter's voice expressed his horror at the death of the teenager.
"Miss?, Dammit, I never fired a shot. Peter, what the hell
is going on?"
"I d..don't know."
********************************************
When Peter finally arrived home, it was after nine. He
shoved his key toward the lock and was only mildly surprised
when the door easily pushed open.
"What now." he muttered to himself. Drawing his
Beretta, he entered his apartment.
"Ah, my son, I have made tea." Kwai Chang Caine's
voice came from the kitchen.
"POP, Dammit!" Peter was livid. "What!, How!, WHY!
Oh, NEVER MIND!"
"Peter, you are very tense. I sensed your confusion and
felt you needed company."
"Thanks, Pop. I..I'm sorry I yelled. It's been a very bad
week."
"What has happened, my son?" Caine's eyes revealed
his concern.
"Oh, just that in the last week, my apartment has been
burgled, and six guys who attacked me were shot, and not by the
police. Four of them died." Peter was thumbing through his mail
as he spoke. Suddenly all tension left his voice, "Pop! Here's
another letter from that law firm in San Francisco." His face fell
and he sighed, "The way my week has gone, I've probably been
disinherited."
"I doubt that very much, Peter. Open the letter."
"OK. Here goes." He perused the letter quickly and
then said, "Well, Pop, it looks like I was right."
"Right about what, my son?
"I haven't even gotten the damn trunk and the lawyers
have presented me with a purchase offer from some museum."
He threw the letter down on the table beside him. "I told you
I wouldn't get to keep it."
"Peter, they cannot force you to sell it."
"No, I guess not, but just knowing that someone wants
it, well, ....", he left the sentence unfinished, uncertain himself
what he was feeling.
Sensing his son's bewilderment, Caine interjected, "Peter,
you are very tired. Drink your tea and go to bed. We will talk
later."
"OK, Pop, I've got tomorrow off, so we'll have plenty
of time together."
************************************************
Caine had, as normal, risen early enough to watch the
sunrise. Knowing how tired Peter had been the previous
evening, Caine moved quietly into the kitchen in what he hoped
was not a vain effort to find food.
Peter awoke much later than usual. He rose, stretched
and went to investigate the unusual sounds emerging from his
kitchen. Kwai Chang Caine stood in front of the cook-top,
looking unbelievably comfortable there.
"Pop?" Peter's voice was still drowsy. "What on
earth are you doing?"
"I am preparing breakfast, my son. You have not
eaten in thirty-six hours. You must eat to maintain your
strength."
"How did you, oh, never mind. It does smell good.
What are...?" He was interrupted by a knock on the door.
Forgetting that he was wearing only his briefs, Peter
opened his door. He promptly turned red as a young delivery
girl eyed his near-naked frame.
She grinned in appreciation and said, "Special delivery
for Peter Caine?"
Gulping, he replied, "Uh, that's me. I'm Peter Caine."
"Of course you are, sugar, sign here and it's yours."
Peter seized the pen and signed her paper.
"OK, fellas, bring it in."
Peter forgot his physical state at the sight of the large
box being moved into his living room.
"Thanks, thanks very much!" He couldn't take his eyes
off of the crate.
The young woman smiled wickedly, and replied, "Oh,
the pleasure was all mine." The laughing delivery men quickly
followed the girl out of the room.
Peter glanced down and muttered, 'Shit." Raising his
voice, he called excitedly, "Pop, it's finally HERE, please bring
me the hammer from the top left-hand drawer in the kitchen."
Kwai Chang Caine moved to stand next to Peter and
handed him the hammer. Peter eagerly began tearing into
the crate. Caine watched his son closely. He knew that
underneath Peter's air of excitement dwellt the real fear of
another loss.
The crate finally popped open. Peter gasped as he
saw the trunk. The wood appeared to be mahogany. The lid
was decorated with the dragon / tiger relief so familiar to the
young man. The pattern continued on the sides. Dragons, of
all shapes and sizes covered the front.. The back was decorated
with tigers. He knelt by the trunk and ran his hands lovingly
over the wood. Suddenly overcome with emotion, Peter laid his
head on the lid and struggled for control.
Caine knelt beside his son and laid a sympathetic hand
on his shoulder. "Peter?"
"I..I'm all right, Pop." He wiped his eyes quickly,
"Where'd I put that key?" Rising swiftly he moved to his desk,
retrieved the key and returned to the trunk. Quickly unlocking
it, he threw back the lid.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 06 ↑
Peter gasped as he lifted the lid of his prize. A cursory
glance at the contents of the trunk seemed to indicate that all
of his fantasies concerning it had come true. The right side
of the chest contained a variety of quilts, crochet and tatting.
The other side held pictures of assorted sizes, and on top of
the pictures was what appeared to be a series of diaries.
Caine smiled as he watched his son. Peter's face was a
mixture of joy and bemusement. His own observations had not
revealed anything even remotely Oriental in the trunk. The
exterior was decidedly Chinese, possibly even Shaolin, with the
dragon and tiger theme, but the articles he could see seemed to
be typical of the bygone era that the trunk had originated in.
"Peter?"
"Hmmm?"
"My son, I will leave now. You wish to be alone." Gently
squeezing Peter's shoulder, Caine rose, glancing backwards only
once before leaving his son to his discoveries.
So enthralled was Peter with his treasure that he never
saw his father go.
************************************************
Kwai Chang Caine strolled leisurely toward his home in
Chinatown. A smile played on his normally placid face. Peter's
delight in each new discovery was evident to Caine as he traveled
home. While Peter often appeared to be happy, there was always
an underlying aura of sadness, and anger, that clouded his existence.
Caine knew, to his regret, that he was responsible for much of the
discord that marred Peter's gentle soul. At this moment, however,
Peter was completely at peace, and filled with a joy that Caine had
never felt in his son’s being.
***********************************************
Peter removed the diaries from the trunk and placed
them carefully on the shelves with the Caine journals. These he
would save to read later, when his thoughts were less chaotic.
Forcing his eyes away from the photographs, he gently
lifted the tatting and embroidery out of his trunk. The tatting was
yellow with age and appeared very fragile. Collars, cuffs, and
doilies of all shapes and sizes were carefully placed on his coffee
table. Similar embroidered items joined the tatting. A piece of
clothing that looked like silk, caught his eye. Lifting it cautiously,
he unfolded a shirt. Gasping, Peter saw that tiger and dragon
symbols had been artfully arranged on the silk.
"You know, Pop, this looks a lot like the shirts you
wore at the kwoon…. Pop?" He glanced around the room, then
remembered vaguely that his father had left. Hoping he had not
been too rude, he gently removed the first of the quilts. The faint
scent of mothballs assailed his senses. The brightly colored reds,
blues, and greens arranged in random triangles on a cream
background, caused him to laugh out loud. "This is absolutely perfect.
I'll use this one for certain." Realizing that the cloth items were
in desperate need of cleaning, he abandoned them for the assortment of
photographs.
The first small images he picked up were tintypes. Running
his hands over the tin, he wondered who the children on the metal were.
No labels accompanied these images so he laid them reluctantly
aside and moved on to the ‘later’ photographs. One in particular
captured his attention. A young woman, in late eighteen-hundred
dress sat primly on a chair in a pose common to professional
photographers of the era. She was the image of his mother. Except
for the yellow flower and ever-present smile, this woman could have
been Laura Caine. Turning the photo over, he was delighted to find
a name written in a neat, elegant script. "Laura Elizabeth Manning.
Well, I'm betting that this is great-great-grandmother. Hope
there's a picture of great-grandmother."
************************************************
His son's joy spread through their psychic link and
threatened to overwhelm Caine with its intensity. He had just
begun to distance himself from Peter's thoughts, when a fiery
pain raced through his chest. Surprise shook the Shaolin as he
grasped for an ever-widening red smear in the center of his
shirt. Gasping for breath, he folded into a heap on the sidewalk.
From a distance, someone yelled, "Call 911". As a curious
crowd of onlookers gathered, the last thing he heard was a gentle
voice saying, "Relax, sir. Help is on the way."
************************************************
Reaching for the next picture, Peter was suddenly
overwhelmed as a severe pain raced through his chest. Cringing
he leaped to his feet, rubbing the non-existent injury.
"POP!" Peter was horrified to realize that he KNEW
his father had been hurt. Grabbing his car keys, he dashed from
his apartment, leaving the trunk abandoned in the middle of
the room. Racing through the parking garage, Peter Caine
never saw the attack. A sucker-punch to the abdomen brought
him to his knees. Before he could recover, a cloth covered his
mouth and nose. Realizing the cloth contained chloroform,
Peter held his breath until another blow to the stomach. His
gasp of pain was all it took to relieve him of his consciousness.
"You two, get him in the van, and make sure he's
well-secured. He mustn't escape." Turning to the largest of
the men, Smith said, "You two, come with me."
Alexander Smith entered Peter's apartment and moved
swiftly toward the trunk. Kneeling, he found what he was looking
for. He carefully pressed pressure points on all four sides. Nothing
happened. Snarling in frustration, he removed a yellowed sheet
of paper from his wallet. Studying it a moment, he once again
touched the pressure points, this time in a different sequence. He
smiled as a hidden compartment opened up at the base. Reaching
in, he carefully removed a thin chest, slightly smaller than the base
of the trunk that concealed it. Opening the lid, he reviewed its
contents, nodded in satisfaction then said, "Leave the trunk.
We've got what we came for." Closing the secret door, he turned
and left, followed closely by his henchmen.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 07 ↑
Kwai Chang Caine had barely made it into surgery when
Kermit Griffin arrived at the hospital. Lo Si was already there.
"How's Caine? Heard the call and came straight here.
Jody's gone to get Peter."
"Caine is in surgery. He is badly injured."
A cell phone rang insistently. Kermit jerked it out of his
pocket and yelled, "WHAT" into the mouthpiece.
"Kermit," Jody's voice was tightly controlled, "Peter's
not at his place but his car's downstairs."
"Shit. Anyone see him go out?"
"No, but the lady next door saw three men leave a little
while ago, carrying something."
"Something large enough to be a body?"
"No, thank God!"
"Can she describe them?"
"Not, really. Just that all of them were tall but one was
very thin. The other two were heavily built. Other than that she
didn't pay any attention. How's Caine?"
"No word yet. Was there any sign of a struggle?"
"No, Kermit, but it kinda looks like he left in a hurry.
I found a shoe that could be his near his car. I'm betting he
was dressing on the way out. Also, there's a trunk that I've
never seen before in his living room surrounded by packing
material. The way things are laid out on the floor, I'm guessing
that he was looking at it when he had to leave. This is what he
inherited, isn't it?"
"Sure sounds like it."
"I'll check out the garage again then come back here. I've
got the lab crew on the way to dust for prints. Call me if he shows
up... and keep me posted on Caine."
Lo Si's intense stare unnerved the ex-mercenary as he
disconnected the cell phone.
"Young Peter is missing?"
"Oh, yeah."
***************************************************
Three hours had passed since Kwai Chang Caine had
entered the operating room. An odd assortment of people crowded
in the surgical waiting area. Members of the Chinese community
paced the floor alongside members of the 101 st. Jody Powell had
completed her search of Peter's apartment and joined his friends at
the hospital. Annie Blaisdell had phoned three times from the
resort Caroline and Kelly had spirited her off to only the week
before. Peter Caine's continued absence was adding unneeded
tension to the atmosphere.
The doors from the surgical wing swung open and a
young man in surgical greens moved toward the waiting throng.
"Caine? Who's here for Mr. Caine?" Wincing as the
crowd all spoke at once, he added, "Uh, is any of Mr. Caine's
family here?"
"I am his uncle. How is he?" Lo Si had little trouble
embellishing the truth when necessary.
The doctor eyed him suspiciously for a moment.
"I am Dr. Ryan. Mr. Caine took a bullet to his chest.
It pierced his left lung and finally lodged near his spine. We've
repaired the lung and removed the bullet. The second bullet
grazed his temple. He's being taken to ICU. With a bullet so
close to his spine, it's going to be necessary to keep him
immobilized for a while."
"He will live?"
"Barring any unusual complications, yes. The lung
injury will be very painful for a while but not fatal. He lost a
great deal of blood, so even with the blood transfusions, he'll
be very weak for quite some time."
Lo Si closed his eyes to conceal his relief. From behind
him somewhere came a gasp. Lo Si registered that it sounded
like Mary Margaret. "Thank you Doctor."
"He's a very lucky man. The fact that he has movement
in his legs means the spine is probably not damaged." Nervously
nodding to the now silent crowd, the doctor vanished into the
safety of the OR.
Karen Simms stood rooted to the ground for only a moment,
"Frank, put an APB out on Peter Caine. I know he hasn't been
missing for twenty-four hours but there is no way he would not
be here. Peter's in trouble - again. Ladies and gentlemen, FIND
HIM."
**************************************************
The chloroform was wearing off. Peter Caine roused
enough to realize that he was on the floor. He was still drowsy
but subconsciously knew he shouldn't stir. Confused, for a
moment all he could do was concentrate on finding his arms
and legs. They were not bound. He swallowed nervously and
was immediately overwhelmed with a choking sensation. The
metal band around his neck grew tighter as his breathing quickened.
Forcing himself to relax, Peter felt rather than heard the noise
surrounding him. He willed himself to stay still and fought to
unlock his hearing.
"Did you kill him?" The man's voice was cold.
"I got a clean shot to the chest."
"I didn't ask if you hit him. I asked if you KILLED him."
"I'm sure I did."
"Then why did an ambulance come to the scene and
NOT a hearse?" Without waiting for a reply, Smith turned,
fired and smiled as a small bullet hole appeared in the center
of the thug's head. "You were warned about failure."
"Spencer, go to the hospital. If Caine is not dead, finish
him." Glancing momentarily at the dead man, he added, "And
someone clean up this mess."
A small red-headed man nodded, stepped over his dead
comrade and left the room. The remaining men moved forward
as a unit, lifted the corpse and followed him out the door.
Peter was jerked into complete awareness by what he'd
just heard. "Pop?" he silently called to his father, "Pop, answer
me. Father, where are you? FATHER?" There was no answer.
Every nerve ending in his body wanted to scream in agony.
"Oh, God, Pop, you can't be dead. Please, don't leave me alone."
The tears streaming down his face went unnoticed by Peter,
but not by his abductor, who turned toward his captive and laughed
when he saw the younger man's tears.
"The kid's awake. Looks like he knows something is wrong
with Daddy."
"DAMN YOU, What have you done to my father?" Peter
struggled to his feet, lunging at the man before him. Alexander
Smith watched with amusement as the chain attached to Peter's
collar tightened, snatching the young man off his feet. Gagging,
and gasping for air, Peter could only glare at the stranger in front
of him.
"Oh, nothing much, just issued the order to verify his
execution. Translation - if he ain't dead now, he will be soon."
"But why? Who are you? What have you got against him?"
The ache in his throat where the collar had tightened matched the
pain in his heart.
"No grudge against him. I just don't like you. Besides,
we have unfinished business, Peter Caine. As to who I am, you
already know." Smith turned and strode nonchalantly out the
door.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 08 ↑
Lo Si chose to accompany Kermit to Peter's apartment.
The young detective's continued absence worried the Shaolin
more than he cared to admit. Lo Si loved Peter, and his father
dearly. If Caine could not come to the aid of his son, the
elderly Shamballa Master would.
Kermit walked straight to the trunk. He ignored the fabric
items scattered around the coffee table and began reviewing the
pictures on the floor. Lo Si circled the ornate chest, examining it
closely from all sides. Gracefully lowering his elderly frame to
the floor, Lo Si began a series of taps on the trunk. Sides, front,
high, low - all points were covered. Kermit's ears pricked up as
he noticed the change in tone.
"The bottom's hollow."
"Yes, I suspected as much when I saw it. This is a very
elaborate puzzle box. Pressure points on the box, pressed in the
correct sequence will open it."
Kermit glared at the trunk, "Lo Si, I'm betting the men
who left here today have what was in the bottom. We have to
be certain, though. Can you open it?"
"I believe so, but it will take some time."
"Fine." Kermit's eyes widened. "When Peter got the key
to this trunk, he also got an inventory list of various items. If
those things were concealed in the base, I understand why it's
now empty. But what I don't understand is why take Peter? If
'they' did? And if 'they' didn't, who did?"
*************************************************
Knowing they were weapons that could be used against
him, Peter struggled to control his fury, and his fear. He'd finally
ceased sending frantic thoughts to his father. Pop was nowhere
to be found. Choking down the sobs that threatened to overwhelm
him, he took some solace in the thought that he seemed to be
picking up vicarious pain that was not his own. He latched onto
the hope that this discomfort belonged to his Pop. Surely he would
'know' if Caine was gone.
Peter forced himself to calm down enough to examine
his situation. Many times in the past, he'd found himself a prisoner
of one or another set of bad guys. Always before, it was his hands
and feet that had been bound. The man he could not put a name to,
had imprisoned him, and chained him like a dog to a stake. He ran
his fingers along the collar - even the word made him shudder in
rage. The metal band itself appeared to be one piece; the seams
were welded shut. The chain attached to the collar was also welded
securely in place. The other end of the chain disappeared through
a tiny hole in the wall. The was no room for the chain, and his arm,
in that opening.
Peter yanked the chain in frustration. Reaching down,
he jerked off his sole shoe and hurled it toward the door. Muttering
"THAT felt good," he took a deep breath, and began to look
around his latest prison.
He was surrounded by dirt on the floor and one wall.
The other walls and ceiling were sheet rock. The chamber was
completely empty, except for a small hole in the corner. Peter
tested the length of the chain. He could physically touch three of
the walls. The fourth, and its door to freedom, was out of reach
by several feet. Forcing himself to walk to the corner, he checked
out the hole. Grimacing in revulsion as the smell reached him, he
groaned, "Great, no bathroom breaks."
************************************************
Jody arrived at Peter's lugging the case Blake had sent
to Kermit. The ex-mercenary leaped to his feet and removed
the case from her hands in one movement. Quickly unzipping
the bag, he removed a laptop computer. As he connected the
laptop to the phone line and power, he nodded toward the
trunk, "Jody, look through those pictures. Peter doesn't seem
to have made it all the way to the bottom. Look for anything
unusual. Also, look for anything written - letters, diaries, you
know."
She moved to the front of the trunk, trying not to interrupt
Lo Si as he ran his hands over its mahogany sides. She sat on
the floor, lifted the first of the pictures out of the chest, and
without looking up, asked, "What are you going to do?"
"I was running an Internet search on that inventory list
Caine gave us. I'm going to dial into my PC at work and see
what that search has turned up."
The group worked in silence, each intent on his or her
task. A grunt of surprise caused Kermit and Jody to look up
at Lo Si.
"Got something, Lo Si?" Kermit pressed a button on
the laptop and moved toward the old man.
"Oh, yeah" Lo Si's impersonation of Kermit brought
a smile to Jody's lips, "Watch please."
Two pairs of eyes followed Lo Si's every move as he
deftly pressed various points on the trunk. It wasn't long
until the secret door popped open.
"Empty." Jody's voice reflected her disappointment.
"Yeah, but look at this," Kermit pointed to fresh scratch
marks on the bottom of the compartment. "Something was
pulled out of here, and from the size of those scratches, I'd say
it was heavy." Reaching for his cell phone, he added, "Don't
touch anything else until the forensics team dusts the opening
for prints."
Jody returned to reviewing the photographs, feeling slightly
guilty for seeing them before Peter. Privately, she hoped he would
understand. Unnoticed by Kermit and Jody, Lo Si began to wander,
almost aimlessly, around the apartment.
Kermit returned to his laptop to renew his search. Jody
casually opened another photo folder and gasped in astonishment.
"Kermit, COME HERE!"
Responding to the urgency in her tone, he crossed the room
in two very large steps. "What?"
Silently, she handed him the photograph. The woman who
so dramatically resembled Laura Caine was standing beside a man
in a chair. 'Woman' was not correct - this image was that of a
teen-aged girl. Kermit's jaw dropped as he stared at the man in
the picture. He was Oriental, and bore a faint resemblance to
Kwai Chang Caine.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 09 ↑
Mary Margaret Skalany was on the phone, again.
"No, Annie. There's been no change. Caine's still unconscious.
The doctor says with the head injury he received,that's not
entirely unexpected. He's been out for over twenty-four hours
now. Peter's still missing. No leads and no demands. He's
just gone. What? I'm sorry, Annie. The phone line's going
bad again. I'll keep you posted." Hanging up, she slapped the
top of her desk.
"Problem?" Frank Strenlich appeared at her side.
"That damn weather front is playing havoc with Annie
and the girls getting home. She's frantic with worry, and there's
not damn thing I can do. Is there anything on Peter?"
"No. Kermit's developed an almost incestuous relationship
with his computer. Jody's still at Peter's. Lo Si was insistent
that the place be searched, again, so she stayed to help. I don't
envy her that task - Lo Si won't tell her what he's looking for.
Now, Detective Skalany, about the Brown case."
Mary Margaret cringed and pulled the requested paperwork.
Crime hadn't stopped just because Peter was missing, and Caine
had been shot.
***********************************************
Peter Caine sat in the dirt with his head on his knees.
His watch was missing, and he had no idea how long he'd been
a prisoner. The emptiness in his belly told him he'd missed at
least one, if not more meals. The dryness in his throat added
to his misery. Blood caked around the collar where he'd fought
to loosen the seams. He'd yelled for an eternity until his voice
failed him, but had not seen anyone since the thin man had left.
Every so often, a small vial of water would be pushed through
an opening in the door. Never enough to quench his thirst but
obviously enough to keep him alive, barely. The dirt floor
showed the signs of his pacing. His bare feet left clear marks
that laid out a semi-circle marking the end of his leash.
Finally realizing that pacing and yelling were only serving to
weaken him, Peter collapsed to the floor and refocused his
energies on figuring out who the thin man was.
Mentally reviewing as many of his previous cases as he
could, he worked to put a name to his captor. His mind kept
returning to the pain in his hands. The blisters he'd developed
trying to force apart one of the links in the chain, had burst
with his last attempt, and the burning sensation was extremely
distracting. Peter struggled to become one with the pain but his
concern over his father joined with his current weakened state
to make this impossible. "Damn it. If I only had a knife, I could
pry these links apart." He struck the chain with frustration.
His father's ceremonial dagger came unbidden into his thoughts.
To his astonishment, his mental image of the dagger was overlaid
with the thin man's face. The dagger and the face began to tumble
through his thoughts, circling each other as if they were joined by
a cord.
Peter's eyes widened as he suddenly was able to put a
name to the face. Smith. "Smith?" he said out loud. The director
at Pineridge had been named Smith. "What was that sob's name?
B...no, D..Douglas, Douglas Smith." The resemblance was there
but the thin man was much too young to be the director who had
plagued Peter's early teen years. "Wait a minute, Smith's son.
What was that ass-hole called? Oh, Yeah, Alexander. I'd
forgotten about HIM."
********* FLASHBACK ********************
To the lonely, frightened boy trapped in the orphanage,
the tall, handsome older teen was a lifeline. Alexander Smith
may have been the son of the director, but he was nice. Peter
quickly came to trust the young college student, home for the
summer, and confided in him about the knife, and the temple.
Alexander took a genuine interest in Peter's family
history and listened closely as the devastated boy told stories
handed down to him about the Shaolin, and their treasures.
"Hey, Petey." Alexander delighted in teasing the child.
"Want your knife back?"
Peter's eyes widened as he nodded eagerly.
"OK, does he still have it here or did he send it off
somewhere?
"H..he didn't say anything about sending it away."
Peter was terrified. If the dagger had been removed from the
orphanage, he might never see it again.
"OK, It'll be in his vault. I'll get it for you but I'll
have to hide it for a while. Your room will be the first place
he'll look for it."
****** END FLASHBACK **********************
"So that's it." Peter sighed, thinking back. Alexander
had been caught in the act by his father. In true coward's fashion,
the nineteen year old had tried to put all the blame on Peter.
The furious director promptly disowned his son as a thief, and
had immediately thrown him off the grounds of Pineridge. The
man had then dragged a very frightened Peter Caine into his
office. There Peter had received the first physical punishment
of his young life. The chained adult winced as he recollected
the feel of Douglas Smith's leather belt against his bare buttocks.
Peter remembered vividly the pain, and the terror, he'd felt on
that occasion. He groaned and hid his face in his hands as the
memories of that beating replayed in his mind. It had been
the first of many trips he'd made into hell.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 10 ↑
"Lo Si!" Jody Powell was losing patience with the
elderly man, "We've been wandering around Peter's place for
hours. I've seen more of his underwear than I every wanted
to. WHAT are we looking for?"
"I will know it when it is found." Lo Si grinned at
the frustrated young woman. "You need not assist me if you
do not wish to."
"No, that's all right. I'll stay. Let me guess. You
want me to go through his closet again."
"Please. I will search the living room once more."
The Ancient shook his head at the impatience of youth as
Jody left the room. He knew she was genuinely concerned
about Peter, and Caine, but he feared she had missed something
in her search of the living area. His tired eyes were once again
drawn to the bookshelves. He'd already scanned it twice but
a third time wouldn't hurt. His vision skimmed over the Caine
journals and passed upward toward Peter's collection of railroad
magazines. Lo Si froze and returned his gaze to the journals.
He suddenly realized that there should only be three - Caine's,
Matthew's and the original Caine's. A closer examination
revealed that the four volumes on top of the Caine journals had
been penned in a decidedly feminine hand-writing. Snatching
them to his chest he called to Jody,
"Jody, we must go to Caine. I have found what I was
looking for."
"But he's still unconscious."
"He will awaken soon." Lo Si strode to the door and
waiting expectantly for Jody. She stared at him for a moment,
then shrugged and followed him out of Peter's apartment.
**********************************************
Smith spoke quietly into the mouthpiece, "The auction
will be sealed bid only, completely anonymous. The articles
being offered are as follows:
Buddhist prayer book - circa 1820
I Ching with ivory coins - circa 1833
Flint bag - circa 1862
dZi beads - circa 1855
Silver prayer wheel - circa 1844
Dragon walking stick - cherry wood - circa 1815
gold and jade Dorji - circa 1750
Pictures of the available items will be accessible for view on
the Internet at the regular location. All interested parties must
request a new password within twenty-four hours. All bids must
be received twenty-four hours after viewing closes. Bids will be
accepted for individual pieces or for the entire lot." Smith paused
and read a note that had just been passed to him. "I've just been
informed that an additional item has been added to the lot. The
latest item is a Shaolin ceremonial dagger - circa 1910. Good
luck in the bidding process." Disconnecting the phone lines, he
turned to the man nearest him.
"Thank you, Mr. Maxwell. I am very pleased you were
able to locate this. I've waited years to get my hands on it." He
was interrupted by another man.
"Boss, Spencer on the phone for you."
Alexander Smith spoke urgently into the phone, "Is
he dead?" He listened for a moment, "I see. No, remain at the
hospital. Even with a police guard there should be an opening
somewhere." He slammed down the receiver. Gently turning
the dagger between his palms, Smith said, "I'm going to call
on our guest. Give me that water bottle."
*******************************************
"Kermit, we're at the hospital. Lo Si found some diaries
at Peter's that apparently came out of the trunk. He insisted
on bringing them to Caine." Jody spoke quietly into the pay
phone while Lo Si argued with the duty nurse. "Look, you
want to argue with the old guy? ... I didn't think so." Hanging
up she walked over to Lo Si.
"Look," the nurse was saying, "one last time. Mr. Caine
has not regained consciousness yet."
Lo Si simply smiled.
"If it will make you happy, I'll go check." The nurse
stalked off angrily. Returning moments later, she picked up
the phone and paged Dr. Ryan. Turning to the Ancient, she
said sheepishly, "Uh, he's awake but the doctor needs to see
him first."
Lo Si merely nodded, and continued to smile. Jody
stared at the elderly Shaolin for a moment then went to call
the precinct.
Twenty minutes later 'Uncle' Lo Si was the only one
allowed into Kwai Chang Caine's room. Doctor Ryan was
still examining Caine when the Ancient arrived.
"My dear nephew, how are you feeling?"
Caine's eyebrows arched slightly, and he replied
weakly, "As well as can be expected, 'Uncle'."
Dr. Ryan interrupted, "As I was explaining to your
nephew, the punctured lung is going to cause him difficulty
in breathing for a while. Now that he's conscious, I can run
tests to see the extent of the head injury. He's not going to
be able to talk much so don't stay long." Ryan nodded to
both men and left the room.
"My son?" Caine was watching Lo Si expectantly.
"Missing. Are you able to sense him?"
Sadly, Caine replied, "No. The bullet which grazed
my skull has apparently also dulled my ability to communicate
with Peter. I must return home to heal if I am to be of assistance
to my son. Will you help me, Master?"
"Certainly, my old friend, but first I fear you must fill
out their forms before they will allow you to leave. Also, I must
confess, I have stolen your son's diaries from his home. I feel
you must read at least the oldest of them as soon as possible."
"Why is that, Master?"
"There is a section written in Mandarin in a different
handwriting from the remainder of the diary."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 11 ↑
Jody watched with concern as Lo Si assisted Kwai Chang
Caine up the stairs and into his rooms. Dr. Ryan had lost all
sense of professional demeanor, and the nurses on duty paled
considerably at Caine's announcement that he was going home.
Even his old friend, Dr. Sabourin, had been unable to dissuade
him. Jody had at first refused to participate - until she found
out Caine planned to walk home. Defeated, she brought her
car as close to the exit as she possibly could.
The Ancient settled Caine into the only chair on the
terrace, then moved swiftly to the kitchen to prepare a healing
mixture. Returning to the balcony, he found his friend slumped
over with his eyes shut. Frowning, he studied Caine for a moment
before speaking.
"You have tried to contact young Peter?"
"Yes."
"That was foolish, my friend. You are not yet strong
enough to succeed. You must rest and heal if you are to be of
any assistance to your son."
Caine's voice was weak, his speech not without effort,
"Peter is in trouble. I thought..."
"You thought to console him with your thoughts. My
friend, your son is no longer a small child in need of constant
reassurance. He is also Shaolin trained. He will know you
live, and will take solace in that knowledge. Now drink this
tea. It will aid your healing."
Caine smiled grimly at his friend, nodded, drank the
tea and reached for the first of the old diaries.
Kermit arrived soon after Caine, his eyes shooting
daggers at the pretty blond detective. Pulling her to one side,
he snarled, "What the hell were you thinking? He shouldn't
have left the hospital."
"And just how the hell was I supposed to stop him?
Peter can't control him, how do you expect me to?" Jody's
voice was tight with controlled rage, and frustration.
"Sorry, Jody. You're right." Kermit turned to look at
the older men seated on the balcony. "What are they doing?"
"Looking at Peter's diaries. It seems there's a passage
in one of them written in Chinese, Mandarin, I think."
Kermit stared in disbelief at Jody, "This gets weirder
by the minute."
"You got that right! We better join them or no telling
what we'll miss."
"Oh, Yeah!" Kermit replied as he moved to join the
pair on the balcony.
*************************************************
Peter didn't look up as the thin man entered the room.
Smith stared for a moment at his prisoner then said, "What,
you're not going to speak to an old friend?"
"Hello, Alexander." Peter raised his head to glare at the
man. "It's been a long time. Can't truthfully say that I'm glad
to see you."
"So you finally remembered me. I'm touched."
"What do you want, Alexander?" Peter stood slowly as
he spoke. He couldn't remember when he had eaten last, and
moving swiftly caused waves of dizziness to overwhelm him.
His captors had kept his water ration to a minimum. Peter
could tell he was starting to dehydrate. His eyes were drawn to
the large sports bottle in Smith's hands. His throat tightened
reflexively as he tore his eyes from the liquid within.
"You dead, for starters, but not quickly. That's why you're
still alive." Smith lifted the water bottle to his lips and drank
noisily. "Let's see, it's been quite some time since you've eaten.
The water situation's been a little better but still not good. You
should be very thirsty by now, and more than a little dizzy."
Trying to ignore the water, Peter snarled, "OK, fine, I
understand that you want to kill me, but why harm my father?
He hasn't done anything to you." He tried, and failed, to contain
the emotion in his voice.
"You little shit." Smith was livid, "You cost me everything,
my home, my education, my father. I'm simply trying to return
the favor."
"You did all that to yourself."
"NO. YOU wanted the knife." As he spoke, Smith
casually emptied the water bottle into the dirt. Peter's eyes
followed every drop as it slipped into the earth.
The prisoner swallowed, trying to overcome the dryness
in his throat, "I was thirteen years old, Alexander. Sure I wanted
the knife. It belonged to my father." He glanced down at his
feet, then looked back at Smith, real sorrow in his voice, "I didn't
think of the consequences if you stole it. Hell, it was mine. I
didn't even think of it as stealing, but your father certainly saw
it that way. He beat the hell out of me."
"It's ironic, isn't it, that you should get beaten for stealing
your own property. You always were a stupid, gullible kid. You
actually believed that I was getting the knife for YOU. I do have
you to thank for one thing. I knew that your knife had to be worth
a fortune. I even had a buyer for it. That knife, and your tales of
Shaolin treasure, got me started. It's amazing how many valuable
items were smuggled out of China toward the end of the eighteen
hundreds. Imagine my surprise when I found a relative of yours
had relieved a temple of its treasures."
"What!" Peter could not hide his surprise.
"Oh, yes, Peter Caine. When he left China, your ancestor
managed to smuggle quite a hefty little prize out with him. A
prize that I will auction off in the next few days, along with your
precious knife." Peter's body stiffened at that pronouncement.
Smith continued, "Not only will I make a tidy profit on the sale
but the opportunity to have a nice reunion between old friends
like us was just too good to pass up."
"You're out of your mind, Smith." Peter croaked, " My
great-grandfather barely made it out of China with the clothes on
his back. Kwai Chang Caine was running from the imperial guard,
he didn't have time to smuggle anything. And he was not a thief."
"Not that ancestor." Smith replied with derision in his
voice. "Your mother's great-grandfather."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 12 ↑
Kwai Chang Caine opened the old diary to the pages
Lo Si had indicated. He stared, unseeing, at the writing before
him.
"Caine? Shouldn't you be in bed?" Kermit's voice
was unusually gentle.
"No, Kermit. Later. When my son is safe." He started
to look once more at the diary.
"Caine, Lo Si, There's something you should know.
That list that came to Peter in the mail? Well, there're rumors
circulating about an auction that's taking place soon. Some of
the items sound like they were lifted straight off Peter's letter."
Jody glared at Kermit, "Just how long have you had this
little tidbit? And when were you going to tell me?"
"Down Sweet Cakes. The report hit my desk just before
I left the precinct."
"Sorry, Kermit."
Caine nodded at Kermit and looked for a third time at
the pages. This time he saw the writing.
"Would you like me to read it, my friend?"
"No, thank you Lo Si, I can manage." Regretfully, he
added, "My son should be the first to read these pages. Since
he is not here..." Caine's voice faded and he shrugged. "And
at any rate, he could not read the Mandarin." Caine's eyes
widened slightly as he read. He suddenly seemed to lose his
balance, almost toppling off the chair.
Kermit and Lo Si quickly leaped to steady him.
"Caine!"
"My friend! What is wrong? Jody, quickly, bring me
Caine's pouch." Jody returned hastily with the pouch. Kermit
supported the ailing man, while Lo Si crushed leaves in his
palms and forced them between Caine's lips. His color soon
returned and his breathing eased. He nodded his thanks then
weakly said,
"The Mandarin section is at the end of a letter to the
author of the diary, Elizabeth Manning. She is but fifteen, and
her lover writes the letter almost as an apology for loving her.
From the tone of the letter, it seems that he did not know she
was so young when they made love for the first time." Caine's
speech was interrupted by violent coughing. Lo Si used his
Qigong techniques to soothe the spasms. Turning to Kermit,
he said, "He must rest now. Please assist me."
Caine held up his hand to forestall their actions. "No,
you must know this. The items in the letter my son received -
the diary also mentions the inventory list. The author writes in
Mandarin to hide their existence. He smuggled them out of
China, from a Shaolin temple. Kermit, these things belong to
the Shaolin, I cannot allow them to be sold." As Lo Si and
Kermit gently pulled him from his chair, Caine thought, "I
must keep the remainder secret. My son must be told the rest
before anyone else."
Ignoring Caine's protests, the Ancient and the ex-mercenary
guided the Shaolin to his futon. Caine batted feebly at Lo Si's
hand, but failed to keep the older Shaolin from forcing him into
sleep. The last thing Lo Si heard as Caine drifted away was a
very melancholy, "Oh, Laura."
*************************************************
Peter stared blindly at the retreating back of Alexander
Smith. Completely oblivious to Smith's departure, Peter could
only hear 'Smuggled - your mother's great-grandfather' playing
like a broken record in his head. He did not want to believe
what Smith had told him. He would not believe it. Running his
hands nervously through his hair, he tried to control his thoughts.
His maternal, what, Great Great Grandfather in China?
If the man had frequented Shaolin temples, he might have met
his father's Grandfather. The thought boggled his mind. Then
there was the accusation of 'thief'. His father had spent the better
part of a lifetime attempting to remove the shame his grandfather
had unintentionally brought on the line of Caine. If his mother's
ancestor was guilty of thievery, his father's sacrifice was all in
vain.
*************************************************
Kermit glanced at his watch as he left Caine's sleeping
quarters. "Jody, where's the police guard assigned to Caine?"
"I took over from him. I was going to be with Lo Si
anyway so it didn't make sense to waste his time."
"OK. I've got to get back to the precinct. If I've
figured it right, the search I'm running on that damn list
should be finished when I get back. With any luck, I'll get
more information on the auction. If we find the stolen
merchandise, we may have a shot at finding Peter."
"Right. I'll just stay here and have some tea."
Kermit left Caine's home, quickly crossed the street
and climbed into the Kermitmobile. He'd never understood
how Peter could always get a parking place directly in front
of his father's home. "Good Karma, I guess." was his thought
as he sped away from Chinatown. So intent was Kermit on
the auction that the red-headed lackey watching Caine's home
went unnoticed.
The small man watched Kermit Griffin leave. Moving
to the nearest pay phone, he dialed and waited impatiently to be
connected with his employer.
"The cop with the sun-glasses just left. That leaves the
lady cop, the old man and Caine. What are your orders? ....
All three? ... n..no problem, sir, I just wasn't expecting that.
Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
Hanging up, he moved to the alleyway behind Caine's
building. There he spent a few moments placing a silencer on
his 9mm Gloc. Carefully, he climbed the fire-escape toward his
goal. He'd been promised a bonus if all three individuals in Caine's
home died. What had been left unsaid, was, if he failed - he died.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 13 ↑
Peter's pacing resumed. Every now and then, he gave
the chain imprisoning him a vicious jerk. The knowledge
that his great-great grandfather may have been a thief had
begun to take second fiddle to his current situation. Peter
suddenly stopped and laughed bitterly.
"Peter Caine, you are an idiot. So you're alone. Big
deal. At least you're not alone on a cliff. Right."
He looked once again at the hole that secured his leash.
He could see nothing. Glancing around, he spied the abandoned
sports bottle. Moving quickly, he picked it up. Instinct caused
him to check it for the liquid he so desperately wanted, and needed.
Nothing. It was empty. Peter pulled the plastic straw from the
bottle and inserted it as far as possible into the hole. The straw hit
a solid surface before reaching its full length. Leaning his head
against the wall in despair, he realized just how much he had
counted on finding an open area behind his wall. An opening
implied a room, a room implied possible escape.
"Oh, Peter..."
He turned to see Alexander Smith at the door. Peter's
eyes shot to the knife in his hands.
Forgetting his bonds, Peter rushed toward the man, stopping
just before reaching the end of his chain. "That's my Father's knife!"
"Yes, my friend." Smith sneered, "I know. I've waited over
fifteen years to get my hands on this. It will bring a fine price, as
will the rest of the items that your trunk contained."
"What, you're reduced to selling old quilts?" Peter laughed
at the thought.
"No, no, no. The Shaolin items concealed in the bottom
of the trunk, smuggled out of China in the 1880's by your maternal
ancestor. The auction's tomorrow night." He turned to walk
away. Reaching the door, he turned to look again at his prisoner,
"Let me see. No food - that won't kill you fast enough. No water
leads to dehydration. Now that is a nasty thing. No air - hmmm,
suffocation. You'll notice that the lighting in here is gas flame.
As the air disappears, so will the flame. Just something to look
forward to. Yes, Petey, you're going to die completely alone. It
will be interesting to read the autopsy results to see if you died of
lack of water or air first. Provided, of course, your body is ever
found."
With that, Alexander Smith stepped out the door and
reached for something. Suddenly, the wall over the door opened
at a joint Peter had failed to notice. As it began to rain granite,
Peter could hear the thin man laugh.
**********************************************
Gasping with horror, Kwai Chang Caine jolted awake.
His sleep had been troubled by dreams he could not remember.
Caine's thoughts turned to Peter. Exhausted, he closed his
eyes, and concentrated on his son. The laughing hazel eyes
danced in his memory. Peter's smile - so like his mother's.
The tall, slim figure that was his child. Suddenly the images
changed. Peter was chained, like a beast, to a wall. He was
totally alone, and obviously very weak. Peter sat facing a
wall of stone, head bowed in grief. The sight tore at Caine's
heart. He longed to reach out and pull his only child into a
protective embrace. Not realizing he spoke, a single word,
"Peter!", issued from his lips. His mind's eye saw the boy,
no - young man, lift his head as if aware of his father's cry.
A spasm of pain shot through his chest, and the vision was
gone.
**********************************************
The dust from the granite had finally settled, leaving
a gray film over the walls, floor and Peter. He'd fallen to the
floor and covered his head as the first rocks fell. He coughed
violently and clutched his chest. Peter knew he'd broken
several ribs when several of the rocks had ricocheted against
his unprotected side. Standing carefully, he moved toward
the wall of stone. The door was no longer visible. The chamber
that had concealed the rocks had no visible exits.
"Not that it'd do me any good - DAMN this collar."
Peter sank to the dirt floor and leaned heavily against
the plaster wall behind him. He stared in dismay at the wall
of stone in front of him. The dryness in his mouth had gone
from cotton ball to cotton bale. He was so tired. The light
in his prison had not dimmed since he had found himself in
chains, but he knew it soon would. The air in the room was
growing very stale and the temperature seemed to have risen
steadily since the explosion had blocked the door. He struggled
to remember his first aid training. He knew that his thirst
proved he was already dehydrated. His head fell forward and
he let his chin rest on his chest.
"Peter!" His head shot up as he thought he heard his
father.
"Pop?" The connection had been brief but it had been
there. Relief surged through his body as the realization grew
that his father was still alive.
Remembering another test for dehydration, he pinched
the skin on the back of his hand between his fingers. As he
watched the skin sag slowly back into place, he knew that he
didn't have long to live.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 14 ↑
Blake rose slowly from his chair as Kermit entered the
101 st. Kermit ignored the electrical wizard's presence until
Blake shut the ex-mercenary's office door.
"What have you got, Blake?"
"Much as I hate to admit it, you and Jody were right.
They were followed. Chin disabled one pay phone and bugged
the other one."
"Why'd he disable one?"
"The Captain was able to persuade the Commissioner
to have an automatic trace set up, but only on one phone. The
phone company's cooperated so far in not repairing the other
one. At any rate, here's the tape from the bug in the phone
booth. Seems the loser's been ordered to kill all three of them."
"Skalany and TJ?"
"TJ's in the alley near Caine's doing a fine job as a
wino. Skalany's in the flower shop across the street. Are you
sure Jody's going to be OK?"
"Oh, Yeah. That's one feisty lady. Have we got the
trace?"
"Yes - but it didn't help much. The call was routed
between several switching stations. We've narrowed the
area he called down to a five mile radius in the middle of
nowhere but couldn't pinpoint the exact location."
"Great. Just great." Kermit's head turned as his
PC started to beep. "Great! I'm in."
"In what?"
"Joe S. Roberts has been granted a password to the
artifact auction being held on the Internet tomorrow."
"Just how did you manage that?"
Kermit lowered his sunglasses slightly and replied,
"Cause I'm damn good." He paused and looked concerned,
"Now I have to get approval to outbid everyone else. I'm
really hoping this is plan B."
"Why?"
"Because I don't really think buying something will
get us close to Peter, but if plan A fails, this is all we've got."
Kermit's phone rang and he quickly lifted the handset
to his ear. Nodding at Blake, he said, "Fantastic, we're on our
way."
******************************************
Jody looked out the window for a moment after Kermit
left. Lo Si entered the room and stood watching the young
woman for a moment.
"Do not worry. He will show."
Whirling to face him, Jody said, "What?"
"The assassin, my dear. The one you and Kermit have
been waiting for since before we left the hospital."
"H..How did you know?'
"I am very old." was Lo Si's only reply.
"Uh. Right."
"Kwai Chang Caine cannot defend himself. I will
go and stay with him. Mary Margaret and Thomas Jefferson
may not arrive soon enough to protect him in his condition."
Ignoring Jody's stunned look, Lo Si returned to Caine's sleeping
quarters, bearing the ever-present cup of tea.
"How the hell do they do that?" Jody shook her head in
disbelief. Another thought occurred to her, "When did he make
that tea?"
*************************************************
Lo Si returned to Caine's side just as the spasm of pain hit
the younger Shaolin. Caine's face had paled and tears streamed
down his cheeks. Lo Si assisted him as he struggled to sit up.
"My friend," Lo Si started.
"NO! My son is dying, Master. I can waste no more
time. I must find him." Caine moved to stand. Lo Si was
barely able to keep him down.
"Kwai Chang Caine - do you know where young Peter
is?"
"N..No." Caine said sadly, 'But I must find him. He is
so alone."
"Drink this tea and rest for a little longer. Someone is
coming who may be able to help. He will be here soon."
Looking at Lo Si's concerned features, Caine found he
could not deny his friend the time he had requested. His hands
shook as he took the offered cup and drank deeply.
******************************************
Spencer moved across Kwai Chang Caine's terrace
with the stealth of a large cat hunting its prey. He gazed for
a moment through the window. It was a pity about the woman,
he would have enjoyed a visit with her. Lifting his gun, he
took careful aim, and,
"I wouldn't" the business end of an unidentified pistol
attached itself to his neck. TJ Kincaid smiled as the stunned
man dropped his gun.
Jody looked up and grinned as TJ shoved the thug into
the room. Mary Margaret appeared a few minutes later, slightly
out of breath. TJ forced the man roughly to the floor.
"What happens now?" TJ couldn't restrain his curiosity.
"We wait for Kermit."
**********************************************
Peter sat with his head in his hands for a few moments
longer. He slowly looked up and glared at the impenetrable
pile of rocks in front of him.
"Rocks? Shit. I am tired." Rising as quickly as his
weakened state would allow, Peter grabbed the largest rock he
could lift and began hammering one of the links in his chain.
**********************************************
Spencer shifted position on the floor and warily eyed
the crowd around him. The cop with the sunglasses had just
arrived and brought a geeky looking guy with him. The lackey
wasn't worried - the only people here were cops and the two
old dudes were priests of some sort. He leaned back and began
to relax. Without warning he was jerked to his feet. Spencer
suddenly found himself face to face with the sunglasses.
Kermit slammed the red-headed thug up against the
wall of Caine's apartment.
"Hey, you can't do that - you're a cop! I got rights."
"Not anymore. Where's Peter Caine?"
"I don't know."
"Try again."
Spencer opened his mouth but the denial stalled on his
lips as Kermit slowly lifted his sunglasses. The lackey gulped
in terror as he saw his death mirrored in the older man's eyes.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 15 ↑
WHAM. The noise echoed through Peter's prison. An
eternity had passed since he'd started beating the chain. Beat
and pull, pull and beat. Just as Peter was beginning to despair
of the link ever breaking, it pulled apart. He stared at it in
disbelief. Sitting back heavily on his haunches, he ran his
fingers through his hair,
"Now, what do I do?" He glanced dazed around the
room. He couldn't think. He swallowed in a vain attempt to
moisten his mouth. His head ached unbearably and the heat
was overwhelming. "Loose. I'm loose. Got to get outta here."
Forcing himself to his feet, Peter staggered toward the
granite barrier. His dehydrated state got the better of him, and
he collapsed barely conscious, arms reaching toward the rocks.
As he slipped completely under, he managed to note that the gas
flames had started to fade.
*****************************************
To the average citizen, the traffic on Route 202 was
simply unusually heavy, and fast. The convoy headed by a
green Corvair broke multiple speed laws and passed every
vehicle going too slow, on any side of the road available.
Lo Si kept a wary eye on Caine. Kwai Chang Caine
sat motionless, eyes closed. To an uninformed observer, he
would have appeared to be sleeping. The Ancient knew better;
his friend was struggling to regain a connection to his son.
"Kwai Chang Caine, you must stop. You are too weak
to connect from a distance. If you waste your strength now,
you may fail your son later."
Caine's voice was cold, "I will NOT fail Peter." He
paused, glancing out the car window, "not again."
Kermit turned off the main road. Three other cars
followed and stopped behind him.
"Lo Si, keep him here." Kermit climbed out and walked
toward the other cars.
Skalany and Blake moved forward to meet Kermit at
Jody's car. TJ moved to her passenger door and stood, resting
his elbows on the roof. Kermit eyed his team.
"If the little weasel is correct, the farmhouse down this
lane is where the objects to be auctioned are stashed. The left
fork leads to an abandoned silver mine. Peter's supposed to
be on the second level."
Jody tried to keep the emotion out of her voice, "Kermit,
are you sure Peter's there? I mean, can we trust Red?"
TJ opened her trunk. The bound and gagged hoodlum
blinked fearfully as the light struck his eyes.
Kermit glanced in at the frightened man. "Oh, I think
we can trust him. His information so far has been right on the
money. Names, places, etc." He slammed the trunk shut and
thought, "Besides he wants to live."
"OK. Here's the plan. We don't know who's where.
It's safe to assume this Smith character is at the farmhouse
getting ready to deal. One guy's dead and Red's our prisoner.
That leaves six guys, counting Smith. No way to know if he's
added more men, but with the dollar splits involved, I very
much doubt it. Blake, take TJ and Skalany to the farmhouse.
All of the items on the auction block are probably stolen, and
some of them were stolen from Peter. And Peter's gonna get
them back."
Blake asked, "You're sure Peter's stuff is there?"
"Oh Yeah. The pictures on the Internet site plainly
show all of the items on Peter's list as well as Caine's knife.
Jody, Lo Si, Caine and I will head for the mine. Let's go."
Kermit helped Caine out of the Kermitmobile while the
other group disappeared through the trees. Jody patted the
trunk of her car and followed the three men toward the mine.
********************************************
"Boss?"
"What?"
"The motion detectors have picked up movement coming
through the woods. It could be a deer, but..."
"Damn. Take someone with you and check it out."
The man nodded and left. Smith stared after him for a
moment, "Matthews?"
"Sir?"
"Get my chopper ready. Load everything on it."
*********************************************
Skalany, TJ and Blake moved as quietly as possible toward
the house. Allowing the younger detectives to outdistance him,
Blake paused, and leaned against a tree. Skalany noticed he was
not with them, grabbed TJ's arm, and turned to look for their
missing partner.
They had not retraced many steps when Blake slid in with
them saying,
"Aren't you going the wrong way?"
"What the hell happened?"
"Are you all right?"
Blake nodded back toward the woods, "We had company."
"Where?" TJ tightened his grip on his weapon and looked
around anxiously.
Patting the place where his handcuffs usually rested, Blake
commented, "I said HAD, youngster. They're embracing a tree
at the moment."
Mary Margaret stifled a grin, "Two more down. That leaves
four. I'm starting to like these odds."
The sound of a chopper drew their attention to the far side
of the house.
"What the ..." Skalany started to run toward the sound,
Blake and TJ at her heels.
Blake gasped out a command, "TJ - house," then followed
her around the corner.
************************************************
Alexander Smith reviewed his booty. Freezing, he snarled,
"Where's MY KNIFE?"
"It..it wasn't in the storage room." The man stared nervously
at his boss.
Seizing his employee by the throat, Smith screamed, "I
waited fifteen years for that knife."
Gasping, the frightened man managed to reply, "I'm
sorry, sir."
"No problem." Smith shoved the screaming man out the
chopper door and watched him fall, smiling as the body hit the
earth.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 16 ↑
TJ Kincaid carefully searched the house. To his utter
disgust, no one was there. Slipping carefully into what appeared
to be an office, TJ spied a dagger on the desk. Remembering
what Kermit had said about a knife, he assumed this was Caine's.
During his search of the house, he'd found nothing of value,
except this knife. His head told him to leave it for forensics, his
heart told him to take it to Peter, and Caine. The two opposing
viewpoints waged war within him for a moment. Realizing
that the odds of Peter ever recovering what had been stolen
from him had fallen dramatically when the chopper took off,
TJ ignored procedure, carefully wrapped the knife in his
handkerchief, and fervently hoped Simms wouldn't kill him.
Shots rang outside. TJ quickly shoved the knife into
his inside pocket and rushed to find Skalany and Blake.
******************************************
Kermit Griffin was furious, "Damn it. The maps are
wrong. They only show three tunnels, not four." He threw the
maps to the ground in disgust.
"We do not need a map." Caine's voice was weak. He
gently pushed Lo Si's hand from his arm. "I can do this, my
friend. I must do this." Turning to Kermit and Jody, he moved
toward tunnel four. "Peter is down this one. There is not much
time."
The group moved quickly down the tunnel. For the first
time since leaving the hospital, Caine was in the lead.
********************************************
"YES - got the fuel line!"
Blake stared at Mary Margaret. "You've been to the
practice range, haven't you?"
Turning to the older man, she smiled, "When you
partner with Peter Caine, there's not much choice."
The chopper stayed in the air for a few minutes then
fell heavily to the ground as the fuel line completely severed.
"That's why I never liked those things." TJ stared
at the smoke in the distance. "They don't glide."
"OK, people, let's go find that chopper." Blake led
the way across the nearby fields.
**********************************************
Caine's breath was coming in short gasps as the group
entered the second underground level. He stopped in front of
a door that had been blocked by a rock slide. Placing his hands
on the rocks, Caine said, "Peter is behind this barrier but his
oxygen is nearly gone." Turning desperate eyes toward Kermit,
"Please, help my son."
"Jody, go call for the rescue squad. Let them know
what we've got." Jody turned and ran for Peter's life.
Kermit started pulling rocks, "We may not be able to
get all the way through, but if we can open enough of a hole
to let air in, we'll buy him some time."
Lo Si and Caine joined him.
Members of the local volunteer fire department started
arriving within ten minutes of Jody's frantic call. Lo Si pulled
Caine to one side, "Let them work my friend. They will get to
Peter faster without our aid."
Reluctantly, Caine backed away from the group at work.
Endless seconds turned into minutes. Caine sank to the
ground and centered himself. Reaching out with his chi, he felt
for Peter. He met no awareness and a fading life force. Unnoticed
by the others working to free the youngest Caine, Kwai Chang
Caine began forcing his chi into his son, ignoring his own weakened
state in an effort to save his child.
"We're in." A cheer went up from the group gathered
there. Another few minutes passed before the hole could be
enlarged enough to admit the paramedics. An oxygen mask
was pushed over Peter's face as several IV's were started. One
paramedic examined the metal collar in disgust.
"We'll have to leave this on. His dehydration level is
worse than I've ever seen. This poor guy doesn't have much time
left."
"Shouldn't we call for a chopper?" Kermit was more than
a little worried.
"The only chopper near enough is on another call. Heard
it on the way here. Land transportation to the nearest hospital
will have to do." The man spoke quickly as they bundled Peter
onto the stretcher.
Jody screamed a warning as Kwai Chang Caine toppled
over. Lo Si caught him and lowered him to the ground. A quick
evaluation by the paramedics brought a second stretcher into the
mine.
The rescue squad carefully maneuvered their burdens
into the back of the ambulance, and sped away, sirens blaring.
The police escort was not really needed, but the ambulance crew
had made only one aborted attempt to explain that to the cop
with the sunglasses.
Kermit leaped out of the Corvair, and watched as the
two unconscious Caines were wheeled into the emergency room.
He was about to slam the door when he noticed something on
the back seat. Reaching in he pulled out Peter's diaries.
"How did ...?" He started to put them back when the
elderly hand of his passenger touched his wrist. Lo Si looked
into Kermit's eyes as if the sunglasses didn't exist.
Nodding at the diaries, Lo Si said, "Those contain
information that must be verified. I do not know how to do
this, but you do."
"Look, this is personal stuff, PETER's personal stuff.
I can't read them."
"You must, for Peter's sake." Lo Si moved into the
hospital to await word on his friends.
Kermit stared after the old Shaolin and considered his
words. Tucking the diaries under one arm, he followed the
Ancient. From the looks of the Caines, it might be a long wait,
and he'd never been picky about his reading material.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 17 ↑
Kwai Chang Caine opened his eyes reluctantly. The
pain in his head worsened as the light from the hospital window
hit his eyes. He smiled gratefully as an unseen hand closed the
blinds.
"Welcome back, Pop," A radiant smile covered his
son's beloved face. Peter reached forward and gently ran his
hand down Caine's hair. "God, Pop, I thought I lost you."
"I am not that easy to lose, my son."
Another voice responded, "But like your son, you take
too many chances."
Caine's eyes widened, "Father?"
Laughter lit the old Shaolin's eyes, "Yes, my son."
"What, Why?" Caine frowned reproachfully as Peter
burst into laughter, grimacing as he held his broken ribs, the
other hand reaching to try to loosen the bandages around his
neck.
"Sorry, Pop. Kermit got hold of him after his final
checks confirmed what the diary had in it. He thought your,
I mean, Grandfather, ought to be here."
"So it is true?" Caine's voice was resigned. "I am
sorry, my son."
"Huh? Oh, no, Pop. There's nothing to be sorry about.
Great-great grandfather didn't steal anything. Most of the stuff
had actually been given to HIS father before he had to leave
China. The only exception was Master Po's walking stick. I
got lucky, Skalany's shot hit the gas line on the chopper. Smith
got away," Peter's face revealed his disgust, "but, he had to leave
the, my stuff behind. Now," his voice showed his excitement,
"you've got to hear the part of Great-great grandmother's diary
that you never got to read. The story starts ...."
Matthew Caine eyed his grandson closely during this
speech. Noting the slight sway and the paling features, he firmly
took the younger man by the arm, successfully interrupting the
young man's explanation, "Stop talking and get back in bed,
Peter."
"I'm fi..." The protest died on Peter's lips as he saw
his Grandfather's stern look. "Uh, Yes, Sir." Reluctantly he
climbed into the other hospital bed in his father's room.
"Peter?" Caine tried to rise, only to be restrained by
his father's firm hand.
"Stay still, my son. You, as Kermit said, pulled a 'Peter'
in trying to do too much too soon. YOU must stay still, and .."
turning to glare at the other bed, "So must YOU, my grandson."
Looking back at his son, Matthew continued, "Your child is
quite stubborn, Kwai Chang, I do not know where he gets that
trait. He just regained consciousness not long ago himself. He
has two broken ribs and was dangerously dehydrated. He's been
undergoing massive rehydration therapy. His heart actually
stopped twice before the therapy took hold."
"Aww, Grandfather, I ..."
"SILENCE!" Matthew Caine's command, combined
with a daunting glare, stopped Peter's protest. "Now, my son,
I will explain the situation surrounding Peter's maternal line."
Taking a deep breath, he began, "In 1885 Elizabeth
Manning was 15 and living in San Francisco. She met and fell
in love with an unnamed young man of Chinese descent, just
arrived from China. Nowhere in Elizabeth's two diaries is his
name mentioned. After he left, she found she was pregnant."
"Yeah, Pop, it's really sad, I mean, in 1885..." Peter's
voice trailed off once more as his grandfather looked at him.
"As I was saying, she was fifteen, pregnant and very
beautiful. Her parents, to save face, arranged a hasty marriage
with a man named Lee Chan Webster, who agreed to be the father
of the baby. The baby girl was born in 1886 and was named
'Laura'."
"So the 'Laura' in the will is actually mom's grand..."
"PETER!"
"Sorry, Grandfather."
"Laura's diaries show that she had no idea that Lee Chan
Webster was not her father until after he died. Her mother told
her the true story of her heritage and gave her the trunk as her
legacy from her biological father. At her death the trunk passed
to her oldest child who died childless, causing the trunk and its
contents to wait in storage until Peter was found." he paused,
then smiled at his grandson, who was noticeably struggling to
be silent. "All right, Peter. You may tell him."
Peter did not hesitate, "Pop, it's really too weird. I mean.."
"Peter, just tell him."
"Chung Wang, my great-great grandfather on Mom's
side of the family was Chung Wang. How's that for destiny?"
Caine stared at his father in shock, "Chung Wang?"
Matthew nodded, "Yes, Father's oldest son by Mayli Ho."
Sadly he went on, "Father rarely spoke of him, and obviously
never knew about Laura. My half-brother died many years before
Father married Mother."
"You are certain?"
Peter nodded, "Yes, Pop, Kermit checked out the
immigration records and birth records of San Francisco in the
mid-1880's. Since Lee Chan Webster was a ship's captain,
the shipping company's records show he could not have been
Laura's father - based on her birth date, he was at sea when
she was conceived."
Kwai Chang Caine lay silent, astonishment overwhelmed
his being. His beloved Laura was also a member of the line of
Caine. Amazed he thought, "what did Peter call it, 'a creeping
vine?'"
Matthew reached out and gentled touched his son's face.
"My son, you have much to think on. I will leave you, and my
wayward grandson to REST." Shaking his finger severely at
the pair in the beds, he turned and ambled out of the room.
Caine stared at his son, and shook his head in disbelief.
Peter's grin was huge. "Hey, Pop, you know this makes
you not only my father but some sort of cousin. I know - since
you don't like me calling you 'Pop', why don't I just call you 'Cuz'?"
Taking note of his father's angry features, he quickly added, "Um,
sorry, maybe not."
"I know 'not'!" Caine's voice could not hide his irritation
with his only child, even as he smiled benignly at him.
Knowing he was forgiven, Peter continued to prattle about
the strange chain of events that had conspired to produce him.
Caine moaned under his breath and was staring at the ceiling
when Dr. Ryan entered the room to check on his patients. Peter's
monologue continued through the entire examination. Before he
left, Ryan asked,
"Is there anything I can get either of you?"
"Nothing thanks," was Peter's cheerful reply.
Caine looked meaningfully at his son as he replied, "There
is one thing."
Ryan lifted his eyes questioningly.
"Perhaps a private room?"
The End
