Killing Time - by Pho
part - 01
The ringing was beginning to annoy him. Peter slapped
repeatedly at his alarm clock before waking enough to realize
his phone was ringing. Glancing at the time, he lifted the receiver
and cursed, "Dammit, it's three in the morning, this had better
be good!"
The soft voice at the other end of the line jolted Peter
Caine into an upright posture. "Paul? Where, what? Yes, I
understand, I'm hushing."
Peter listened intently for a few moments longer, then
replied, "Of course, right away. Mom will be...." He paused
listening, "But... OK, if that's what you want, but Paul, surely
Mom." Peter winced as the disembodied voice came back at
him over the phone. "I'm s..sorry, Paul, you know you can
trust me. I'll leave immediately. How long will this take? I
mean, Captain Simms insisted that I take a few days off so I
don't have to be back for another four days but I'll have to call
in if I need more time...." He listened for a moment longer,
then answered, "N..no, if it's that important, I...I won't tell my
father either."
Peter quickly threw some clothing in his overnight bag and left
his apartment.
**********************************************
Across Chinatown, Kwai Chang Caine was just returning
to his home. Normally he needed little actual sleep, preferring to
renew his physical and emotional resources by means of deep
meditation. The recent flu epidemic, however, had stretched him
to his limits. He moved wearily toward his sleeping platform,
changing into silk pajamas as he went. Realizing that he was too
tired to sleep, he lowered his tired body into a lotus position and
began meditating. He was just coming out of his meditative state,
when he picked up the strong emotions of surprise in his son. True
pleasure followed surprise and Caine shook his head, assuming
that Peter was once again, 'entertaining'. Caine had often picked
up his son's nighttime emotions, both good and bad. Relieved that
what he felt was pleasure not pain, Caine cut the mental cord which
bound them and slipped into a deep, much needed, slumber. He
was fast asleep, and too tired to notice, as Peter's emotions became
confused.
**********************************************
Peter analyzed his feelings as he strode toward his car.
On the one hand, he was ecstatic that Paul had finally gotten in
touch with him after all this time, however, he was more than a
little confused by Paul's absolute refusal to contact Annie or the
girls. He had not sensed danger in Paul's tone, but there had been
a feeling of urgency to the whispered dialogue. He continued
to analyze the puzzle as he pulled the Stealth out of the parking
garage. Laughing to himself, he thought, "Peter Caine you are
being ridiculous. Paul's up to something and needs my help.
With as much mercenary experience as he's got, I'm sure not
going to be able to pull information out of him that he doesn't
want to give. Guess I'll just have to wait and see. Yuck, Paul's
probably having a good laugh right now - he knows that patience
is not my strong point."
Even watching the road closely, he still missed his turn.
Cursing softly, he did a three-point turn, grimacing as the Stealth
was splattered with mud, and drove back to the landmark he'd
been seeking. The old airport sign was more visible from his
new direction and Peter turned down the old tar and gravel
road. The potholes required him to slow his car to a crawl and
even so it bottomed out in places. "Great, I'm going to need an
alignment job by the time I get to the end of this road." Peter
mumbled to himself, "Hope Paul doesn't need to take many
roads like this."
Rounding a corner, his heart skipped a beat. Paul Blaisdell
stood by an old hanger, outlined in the headlights of a car parked
nearby, his back to the oncoming Stealth. Peter's car skidded to
a halt in front of the broken down fence separating a long unused
parking lot from the hanger area. He leaped out and raced toward
the shadowy figure, clearing the unbroken rails without breaking
stride. The lights of the other car blinded Peter as he ran toward
the motionless shape, crying, "Paul!" The figure of Paul Blaisdell
turned to face his foster son. Peter shaded his eyes in a vain effort
to see his second father. "Paul, what's going on? I can't see you."
Peter slowed in confusion. The dart hit him in the thigh. He
grabbed for the dart and quickly pulled it free. His eyes widened
in astonishment and no small amount of fear as the drug took hold.
Dizziness overwhelmed him and he staggered forward, pleading,
"Paul?"
The last words he heard before he lost consciousness
caused him to relax completely, "It's all right son, I'm sorry,
but this is necessary. I promise I'll explain later." A callused
hand gently stroked brown curls as Peter Caine finally succumbed
to the anesthetic.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 02 ↑
"101 st - Strenlich speaking." Broderick had been
occupied with an angry man at the front desk, so Strenlich
had grabbed one of the ringing phones.
"WHERE THE HELL IS CAINE?" Kermit's irate
voice came loudly over the line.
"I think that's MY line." Frank replied succinctly.
"He's not here yet, Kermit, and as usual, he hasn't called in."
"Dammit, he was supposed to pick me up this morning.
The Kermitmobile needed work and I'm stuck at the garage.
I've tried his apartment but no answer."
"Calm down Kermit - do us both a favor and take a
cab to Peter's to check on him." Frank laughed briefly, "I'm
sure Peter will be more than happy to reimburse you for the
cab fare."
"You're damn right he will - but I'll check it out."
Strenlich winced as Kermit slammed the phone down.
********************************************
Kermit was still fuming as he paid the Checker cabbie.
Stalking into the building, he took the stairs in an effort to
regain control of his temper. He only wanted to hurt Peter a
little, not damage him for life. Breathing heavily, he exited
at Peter's floor, making a mental note to start working out
more. Slightly calmer now, he knocked on Peter Caine's door.
No answer. Kermit removed his lock picks and quickly let
himself in. As he opened the door, he felt a familiar tingle as
the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Recognizing the
warning sign from his mercenary days, he quickly drew his
Desert Eagle. Moving cautiously through the apartment he
glanced at the kitchen then checked the bedroom. The bed
was unmade and had obviously been slept in. The closet
doors were open and a couple of dress shirts lay on the floor.
A third shirt dangled loosely from a hanger. Moving to the
bathroom, Kermit discovered that Peter's personal items: razor,
toothbrush, deodorant, were missing. Checking Peter's closet
once more, he found that the familiar sports bag that the young
detective used for long stakeouts or weekend jaunts, was missing.
"Damn." Kermit moved swiftly to the kitchen. Finding
no sign that the stove or oven had been used recently, Kermit
raced out the door and took the elevator to the basement.
Kneeling in Peter's empty parking space, Kermit ran his
fingers over the oil stain on the floor. Noting that there was
no liquid on the floor, he realized that Peter's Stealth had been
gone quite some time. Returning to the apartment, he was only
mildly surprised to find Kwai Chang Caine there.
"Peter is .. missing." Caine stated this as fact, not
question.
"Oh, Yeah!" Kermit replied as he pulled his cell phone.
"Don't touch anything, Caine." Turning his attention to his
phone, Kermit said, "Chief, Peter's not here, his sports bag is
gone and the Stealth has been gone long enough that there's no
oil where the car was. I don't think they'll find anything but
get a lab crew over here." He listened for a moment, "Right,
I'll wait here. Caine's here too." Disconnecting the phone,
he returned his attention to the priest. Caine appeared to be
deep in thought.
"Caine? Anything?"
"No." Caine replied softly, "nothing."
"That's not good, is it?" Kermit asked.
"Peter is either unconscious, or, d..." Caine could not
complete the thought. He took a deep, settling breath and went
on, "Normal sleep has a different feel."
Kermit turned as the lab crew arrived. He quickly directed
them to the bedroom. Turning to speak to Caine again, he twirled
in a circle as he realized the Shaolin was gone. Dashing out the
door, he cursed as he found that Caine was already out of sight.
************************************************
Peter Caine's body writhed in terror as the nightmare
played out in his head. He struggled in vain against his dream
bonds, his movements becoming increasingly frantic as he
realized there was no escape. Thrown into consciousness by
a violent movement in his dream, it took him a moment to
realize that he really was secured. The darkness surrounded
him completely as he tried to ascertain his position. He shook
his head in an effort to clear the haziness that seemed to be
orbiting his skull. As his mental fog lifted, he found that he
was chained upright to something wooden. His arms and legs
were pulled into a spread-eagle formation. The pain in his
arms and lack of sensation in his feet, confirmed that he was
suspended above the floor. How far he could not tell. Then
came the realization that he was wearing only his briefs. The
chill that permeated his bones was a much a result of fear as
it was true cold.
"What the hell!?" Remembering the exchange at the
abandoned airfield, Peter called, "Paul?"
He cried out in pain as multiple spotlights suddenly
focused full strength on his face.
"Yes, Peter?" Paul Blaisdell's voice was clear and
strong. Too strong to also be a prisoner.
Confused now, Peter said, "Paul - I don't understand.
Why am I a prisoner, w...what's going on?"
"You've been a very bad boy, son. I'm very much
afraid that I'm going to have to punish you severely."
"Where is Paul? What have you done with him?"
Peter's voice raised in anger as he recognized that the man in
the shadows was not Paul Blaisdell. The voice impersonation
had been excellent, Peter realized, but there was no way the
speaker was his foster father.
The voice took on a harsher note as the speaker dropped
his Blaisdell act. "Don't know, don't care. Doesn't matter.
Only needed his voice. Got your attention. Worked good.
Real good."
"Who are you?" Peter tried to keep his voice from
showing the anger, and fear, that he was currently feeling.
"Need to know?" The man appeared to be speaking
to himself, "No, think not. Not now. Maybe later. After
punishment. Be back soon. Real soon."
The spotlights were extinguished as the man vanished
with the light, leaving Peter Caine dangling, helpless, in the
air. As the darkness closed around him, Peter wondered what
the heck he had gotten into this time, and, swallowing hard,
what constituted 'punishment'.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 03 ↑
A very concerned Kwai Chang Caine returned to his
apartments in Chinatown. He had attempted to reach his son
over the last few days but to no avail. He now 'knew' that
Peter had been taken shortly after he had detected his son's
'pleasure' emotions. Caine winced inwardly as he recalled
his failure to contact his son on Saturday morning. Fear and
guilt combined to block his concentration. It did not matter
to Caine that he had been awakened suddenly by the daughter
of an elderly flu patient. The old woman's condition had
worsened during the night and Caine had been summoned
hastily to treat her. He had ignored the haunting feeling that
something was wrong with Peter as he followed a trail of
illness through Chinatown, administering herbal medications
to those in need. Kwai Chang Caine knew only that he had
failed to recognize the need of the one person in the world
that meant the most to him, his son.
***********************************************
"Any news," Jody asked, quietly approaching Kermit, "of
Peter?"
"No - unless you want to count the same information we
already had - which is NOTHING. A big fat zero." Kermit
flung his pen at his laptop in frustration. "Hell, the only thing
I know for certain is that Peter isn't anywhere to be found. I
can't even prove that foul play is involved. I know it but I
can't prove it."
"Anyone who knows Peter would know he wouldn't just
leave without telling anyone."
"I don't know, maybe, like father, like son," muttered
Blake, as he poked his head into Kermit's office.
"That's not fair,", Jody fairly spit in Blake's face, "I'm
sure Peter's in trouble and you're making jokes."
"Whoa, down, Jody," Blake involuntarily backed up, "I
didn't mean anything by that."
"Could you two take it elsewhere? I'm trying to concentrate."
Kermit snapped as he turned his attention to his beloved computer
screen. "I'll get proof he's in trouble, if it's the last thing I do."
"Griffin, Powell, Blake in my office." Captain Simms voice
carried across the squadroom.
Kermit, Jody and Blake moved swiftly to join Skalany and
Strenlich around the Captain's desk.
Simms' voice was grim as she stated, "You can stop working
on proving Peter has disappeared."
Kermit erupted in anger, "Now just a ..."
"Before you finish that statement Detective Griffin, I
suggest you let me finish." Simms glared down the former
mercenary, then continued, "Detective Caine's badge and
wallet were delivered to the Sixty-third precinct, sometime
last night."
A chorus of noise erupted from her officers.
"Quiet! The Sixty-third didn't call immediately because
they didn't open the package until a short time ago. It appears
to have come in sometime last night but no one saw anything."
Simms' voice betrayed her frustration. "I've already issued
an APB on Peter."
"Why the 63 rd, not us?" Jody's voice was confused.
Simms began, "I don't ..." but was interrupted by
Kermit.
"It was his first assignment as a detective."
Everyone stared at Kermit, speechless. Kermit went on
"Peter told me once that he was only posted there for about six
weeks when he was suddenly transferred to Blaisdell's team.
I don't think Peter even knew why he was transferred. I do
know that he didn't request it."
"That was, what, over eight years ago?" Simms
asked.
Kermit nodded an agreement. Simms sighed, then
said, "OK, people, I've got a real bad feeling about this. Kermit,
pull all the cases Peter worked on at the 63 rd. I'm going to take
a chance and assume that Peter's disappearance has something
to do with a case at the 63 rd. Jody, you help Kermit with the
old cases. Blake, let's hedge our bets - you check Peter's current
cases to see if he's made any notes indicating something out of
order, something unusual. Frank, go to the 63 rd and talk to
them again. Someone should have seen something. Skalany,
find Peter's car. Let's move people, I have a feeling Peter's
running out of time."
**************************************************
The lights flashed on as a voice said, "HE'S BACK."
Peter involuntarily jumped, wincing as the pain in his arms
increased. Blood now flowed down his arms from his wrists
where he had struggled against the restraints. All attempts to
contact his father had been in vain. Peter did not know what
drug had been in the dart, but it had apparently shattered the
link with his father at the same time it killed his consciousness.
"Poor Peter. Peter Piper. In a Pickle. Peck of trouble.
Bad, bad Peter." The insanity in the voice grew more evident
with every word. "Shouldn't have done it. No Peter, bad Peter."
Peter listened with growing fear as the man he could
not quite see, continued to talk in fragmented sentences. Peter
felt that he should know the voice but try as he would, he was
unable to place it. His eyes had now adjusted somewhat to the
lights and he took the opportunity to look around. What little
he could make out terrified him. The room appeared to be
designed as a medieval torture chamber. Peter closed his eyes
quickly then refocused them on his immediate situation. Based
on the rest of the decor, Peter came to the unshakable conclusion
that he was fastened securely on the most famous of the medieval
devices, the rack. No sooner had he realized where he was being
held, than the tension increased on his ankles. Simultaneously
his arms were stretched further away from his feet. Peter Caine
stifled a groan as he realized this was going to be bad, very bad
and he still didn't know who, or why.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 04 ↑
Mary Margaret Skalany entered Caine's apartment in
time to see him collapse in obvious pain. Rushing forward she
attempted to catch him before he hit the ground.
"Caine, what's wrong?" She cried, her voice filled
with concern.
"My son. He is in such pain." Caine gasped and
turned pain-filled eyes toward the younger woman, "Mary
Margaret, please help me. Peter is being tortured."
"Caine, do you know where he is?"
"No, I feel his pain but only because it is so strong.
All else is lost to me. Something is blocking me from my son."
"Come on, we're going to the station. I'll fill you
in on the little bit we've learned on the way." Skalany placed
a firm hand on Caine's arm and gently guided him down the
stairs.
**********************************************
Peter attempted, unsuccessfully, to stifle a scream as
he felt his right shoulder dislocate. Every muscle and tendon
in his body felt like it was on fire as they were stretched as
far as they could go, and then further.
"Father, help me!" His mental scream went unanswered.
"Poor, pitiful Peter. Punished enough." With that the
bonds that held him were loosened rapidly. Every fiber in Peter's
being screamed as joints stretched to their limits snapped back
into position. The young detective cried out once and collapsed
back against the wooden platform, unconscious.
Stepping forward, his tormentor moved to Peter's head
and lovingly caressed the soft, dark curls. "Pretty boy. Too bad.
So sad. Must die. Not soon, though. Time for every purpose."
************************************************
The radio beeped insistently as Skalany helped Caine
into her car. As she grabbed the mike, Caine's body suddenly
relaxed. Looking worriedly at the priest, she responded,
"Skalany here" Her face lit up with delight. "That's
great. What's the location?" "Be there in twenty minutes."
Turning to Caine, she said, "They've found Peter's car at an
old airfield outside of town. We'll go there now." Noticing
that her friend was still very pale, she continued softly, "Caine,
are you all right?"
"I am better, Mary Margaret. Peter is no longer hurting."
Turning troubled eyes toward the young woman, he went on,
"I do not wish my son to be tortured, but the link I share with
Peter appears to have been severed ... unless he is in pain. I..I
do not know what to hope for."
Mary Margaret, unable to face Caine's anguish, averted
her eyes as she replied, "We'll find him, Caine. I promise."
Silently, she thought, "I only hope it's in time."
************************************************
The mud-covered Stealth sat silently in the parking
area where Peter had left it. The open door, keys in the on
position, and a dead battery gave mute testimony to Peter's
mental state when he had left the car. The lab crew was
already at work. A large area had been cordoned off as the
crew took plaster casts of the footprints and tread marks
found at the scene.
Frank Strenlich was personally directing the lab team,
much to their chagrin. Never the most gentile of commanders,
the disappearance of Peter Caine had put him in a mood few
at the 101 st had ever seen.
"About damn time you got here, Skalany, YOU were
supposed to find the car." Strenlich's voice bellowed across
the distance separating him from Mary Margaret and Caine.
Recognizing that the Chief's anger was not truly
directed at her, Mary Margaret closed the distance that
separated them, closely followed by Caine.
"Sorry, Chief, got here as quick as I could. I felt I
needed to have Caine with me. He might be able to tell us
something the lab crew can't." She paused, then said quietly,
"Chief, Caine says Peter is being tortured."
Strenlich paled himself as he took note of Caine's pallid
features and tormented eyes. "Dammit to hell. Do you have
any idea where the boy is?"
Kwai Chang Caine's grief was obvious as he replied,
"No. My son is lost to me. I cannot ..." He paused to regain
control, "I cannot even be certain that he yet lives."
Mary Margaret gasped but before Strenlich could respond
one of the lab crew called out, "Chief, over here."
Frank pushed his large frame into a slow jog as he made
his way toward the kneeling man. Caine and Mary Margaret
followed closely.
"Here Chief, looks as if someone collapsed here and
someone else knelt in the dirt beside them. And there's this."
The lab tech held up a dart that had already been tagged and
bagged. Don't know what's on the dart yet but my guess is
an anesthetic, not poison."
"You're sure?" Frank's voice revealed his concern.
"Won't be sure until we get the lab results back but
the ground's very soft here. The collapsed image shows no
signs of the death spasms that usually accompany a rapid
poison and a slow poison in the dart wouldn't have caused
a collapse."
Caine had halfheartedly listened to the dialogue
before returning to the Stealth. Mary Margaret accompanied
him. Caine gazed back toward Strenlich. His voice took on
an eerie tone as he commented, "Peter was very excited here.
He's running toward someone he cannot see." Caine voiced
his son's emotions as he traced Peter's path. "He's starting to
become confused. Then the dart, fear sets in. He collapses but..."
Caine stopped, bewildered.
"What is it Caine?" Mary Margaret's voice was concerned.
"I do not understand. He is frightened by the dart then
he is not. He lost consciousness, but was not afraid." Caine's
confusion and concern were echoed in Mary Margaret's voice
as she replied,
"That doesn't make any sense. Why isn't he afraid?"
Caine shrugged sadly as he answered, "I do not know."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 05 ↑
The small office of Captain Karen Simms was bursting
at the seams. Kwai Chang Caine and the rest of the team
assigned to Peter's disappearance had descended upon her
domain on mass. Karen Simms looked up in surprise as the
crowd assembled, all talking at once, except for Caine.
"Quiet!" She rapped her desk for order. When the
noise level decreased she continued, "Let's take this one at a
time - Blake?"
"Nothing Captain, if there's anything odd about his
current caseload, Peter didn't write it down."
"Skalany, Frank?"
"A neighborhood patrol unit found Peter's car at the
old airfield just outside town. The battery was dead and the
only prints on the car were Peter's. It looks like he jumped
out to meet someone and collapsed on the way." Skalany's
voice betrayed her concern.
Frank interjected, "We assume it was Peter that
collapsed. A dart was found at the scene. The lab's still
working to analyze the drug."
Before Simms could respond, Mary Margaret said,
"Captain, please hear what Caine has to say."
"Very, well, Master Caine?"
Caine bowed in respect to his son's commander then
said sadly, "The bond I share with my son has been clouded,
possibly because of the drug he was given. I am unable to feel
his presence except," he paused for control, "except when he
is being tortured. Even then, I can only sense his pain, and
confusion, not his location."
Jody had cried out in horror, Kermit kicked the door
and Blake paled as Caine spoke. The hardening of her features
were the only sign Karen Simms gave of emotional distress.
Clearing her throat, Simms said, "I'm sorry, Caine.
Kermit, Powell, anything?"
"Oh, Yeah!" Kermit's voice was tightly controlled.
"Maxwell Duncan. He's the reason for Peter's transfer to the
101 st and I'm betting he's responsible for the kid's vanishing."
"Explain."
"Peter arrived at the 63 rd eight years ago this month.
His first assignment was to work with two detectives, since
retired, on a serial killer case. Seems that area of the city was
being victimized by the 'TIME' killer as the papers called him."
"I remember that case, the guy always left the biblical
quote, "A time to die" by his victims." Strenlich was stunned,
"The sicko killed four people before they caught him. He'd
actually send pictures of his intended victims to a police station
before each person was kidnapped. I didn't know Peter worked on
this case."
"He didn't for long." Kermit responded, "It seems that
Maxwell Duncan selected Peter as victim five. As luck would
have it, Peter's picture, along with the standard insane note, was
delivered to Captain Paul Blaisdell at the 101 st. From the note,
it's obvious that Duncan didn't know the relationship between
Paul and Peter. But, he did seem to know Peter was a cop at the 63 rd.
Part of Duncan's joy of the kill was watching the police struggle to
identify the intended victim without alarming the public. The
first couple of times, no one realized what was happening. Victim
three was dead before the picture got to the 42 nd. It had been
lost in the mail. The detectives on the case told me victim four
bothered them the most - they were thirty minutes behind Duncan.
Paul Blaisdell hit the roof when victim five's picture arrived. He
got Peter transferred to the 101 st and immediately sent him to
a conference in Atlanta. A decoy was used to trap Duncan. The
case never came to trial because it was obvious that Maxwell
Duncan was 'nuttier than a fruitcake'. As one of the detectives
on the case, Peter returned from Atlanta to testify at the sanity
hearing. That's when Duncan apparently realized his mistake.
Duncan never said a word but according to one of the retired
detectives, the guy stared at Peter, without even blinking,
throughout the hearing. The detective said it was unnerving but
Peter didn't seem to notice. Peter never found out he was to be
victim five. Paul apparently never told him. Maxwell Duncan
was sent to an asylum for the criminally insane. He was released
as 'cured' six weeks ago."
"Get an APB out on Maxwell Duncan." Simms voice
was controlled but angry - very angry.
"Already done, Captain." Jody replied.
"Any ideas where he might have taken Peter?"
"None, yet, Captain. I've left word with Judge Reynolds
asking for a warrant to review the man's medical records but
I doubt we'll get it."
Jody added, "Donny Double D is pounding the streets
looking for clues. And I'm having all the paper records of the
original case pulled but it takes time."
"Damn," Karen Simms slammed the top of her desk
in frustration.
"Maybe we can get some information out of his doctors."
Mary Margaret suggested. "Caine can be most persuasive."
Broderick knocked and entered swiftly, "Excuse me
Captain, but Kermit wanted this address sooner than possible."
Kermit snatched the paper from Broderick's hand,
"Great, Duncan's last known address is a dump on Fourth
street. Captain?"
"Blake, Powell get moving. This warrant we can get.
It will be there before you are. Judge Lowe owes me a favor."
Holding up her hand to forestall Kermit's protest, she said,
"Kermit, I need you with Caine. If we can get to the medical
records, they'll be on computer along with who knows what
else." Kermit stifled a grin as Simms reached for the phone.
Blake and Powell were already out the door.
Caine suddenly moaned and stumbled into the wall.
Grabbing his arm, Kermit's voice showed his concern, "Caine,
what's wrong?"
Kwai Chang Caine's face was completely white and
his hand trembled as he turned to face his son's colleagues.
Gasping, he said, "My son's tormentor has returned. Peter's
confusion is as great as his pain." Tears swelled up in his eyes,
as he went on, "He does not understand why he is being made
to suffer. He does not know this man only wants him to suffer,
... and die."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 06 ↑
Peter's eyes fluttered open and his muddled thoughts
prayed, "Please, please let me wake up from this dream." The
pain that coursed through his body quickly eliminated the hope
that none of this was real. Again he mentally cried out, "Pop?
Father? Please - Where are you? Don't leave me here!"
The continued silence of his father had spawned Peter's
fears that the maniac who held him had somehow been able to
harm Kwai Chang Caine. In a mental twist reminiscent of his
father, Peter refused to even contemplate Caine's death.
Chilling laughter could be heard from across the room.
The youngest Caine groaned as his aching joints relaxed from
the latest loosening of the straps. Once again the man approached
the platform that held him. Sweat covered the young detective's
brow as he struggled to stay awake. The chills that ran through
his naked body were but one sign of Peter's rapidly rising fever.
Gasping for air, Peter managed to croak an anguished, "Who?,
Why?"
"Shoulder hurt, again? We'll fix. Third times charm.
Time for everything."
"No, not again" Peter's plea was lost in his scream as his
tormentor once again pulled his shoulder back in place. Three times,
his right shoulder had succumbed to the pull of the straps and three
times, his unknown captor had snapped it back in.
"Rest now - fun later." The man bent over and planted
a gentle kiss on Peter's forehead. Running a hand over Peter's
trembling chest, the maniac patted his bare shoulder and left the
room.
"Father! Help Me..." Peter's mental scream faded into
nothingness as the darkness once again claimed him.
***********************************************
Kermit glanced helplessly as the tears streamed down
the face of Kwai Chang Caine. The priest had tensed a few
moments earlier in what Kermit had come to recognize as
another round of pain for Peter Caine. Caine suddenly slumped
in the car's passenger seat. Kermit reached over and gently
patted the distraught father's trembling hand.
"Caine?"
"I am all right, Kermit, but Peter is not. He cannot
take much more. His pain is great." Caine shut his eyes in
an attempt to control his rising anger. "How much further
to the asylum?"
"We're there." Kermit pulled his rental car into a
parking place. The two men emerged from the car and stood
staring in silence at the foreboding building. A tall man in
standard doctor's garb came down the steps to meet them.
"Detective Griffin, Mr. Caine?" At their nods, he
introduced himself, "I'm Dr. Moore, I understand you want
to discuss Maxwell Duncan. Shall we go over to the bench?
It's too lovely a day to stay indoors."
Moving swiftly to the nearest bench, Moore said,
"Due to Doctor/patient confidence, I feel that I must tell you
that I cannot reveal anything about Mr. Duncan's medical
history."
"I understand Doctor." Kermit replied, "How was it
determined that Duncan would be a candidate for release?"
"A panel of five experts reviewed his history while
incarcerated here. They also did personal interviews with
the staff, including myself, as well as with Mr. Duncan. The
final conclusion of the panel is public record, as I'm sure you
already know."
"We've reviewed the final report, of course, but it was
rather vague." Kermit's voice could not hide his disdain. "Let
me explain the situation. Eight years ago, Detective Peter Caine
was supposed to be Duncan's fifth victim, but fate, and good
police-work, intervened. Maxwell Duncan has been released.
Peter Caine has disappeared. I have never been one to believe
in coincidences. Is there ANYTHING you can tell us?"
Moore studied his feet for a moment before responding,
"Gentlemen, I can tell you that I am on record with the hospital
as opposing Maxwell Duncan's release. With a court order, the
administration of this hospital will make my statements available
to you. That's as much as I can tell you without violating my oath."
The doctor stood and slowly walked back toward the administration
building. Turning to face them again, the doctor added, "Oh, there
is one thing more - may God help your detective." Moore then
picked up his pace and disappeared through the nearest door.
Kermit stared at the departing man's back for a moment
before pulling out his cell phone. Caine simply shut his eyes and
prayed.
"Captain, I need a subpoena for all administrative
records surrounding Maxwell Duncan's release." His eyes
widened in astonishment, "There's one on the way! Karen, I
love you. Off the record, of course."
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than Mary
Margaret's car pulled into the lot. Kermit and Caine rushed
to meet her and together the group entered the administration
building.
One hour later the trio left armed with enough documents
to fill a bushel basket. The group was almost to the cars, when
Caine suddenly froze.
"Caine?" Kermit and Mary Margaret asked in unison.
Kwai Chang Caine's eyes widened, "Peter?"
The mental cry sounded as if it was coming from inside
a tunnel, "Father! Help Me!", then silence. The connection between
father and son was once again severed.
Kermit and Mary Margaret watched in amazement as
a wealth of emotions rushed across Kwai Chang Caine's normally
passive face.
Caine took a deep breath, then said, "I heard Peter
calling to me. The effects of the drug must be wearing off. I
have only felt his pain and confusion before. I must return to
my apartments to meditate. Please take me there."
Kermit quickly responded, "Skalany, you take Caine
home. I'll get these documents to the precinct."
Mary Margaret and Caine climbed into her car as Kermit
squealed tires out of the lot. As they too left the asylum behind
them, Caine said quietly, "Mary Margaret, I fear we may not
reach Peter in time to save his life, and if we are able to save
him," his voice choked on a sob, "will he still be sane?"
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 07 ↑
Detectives Powell and Blake stared in horrified amazement
at Maxwell Duncan's dingy room. The peeling paint was nearly
hidden from view by the artwork. Almost every square inch was
covered with candid shots of Peter Caine. Images abounded in
all shapes and sizes: Peter in his Stealth, at the dry-cleaners,
entering the precinct. Older pictures were also present of a
much younger Peter Caine. Newspaper clippings were scattered
throughout the room with articles about both Peter Caine and Paul
Blaisdell. Jody noticed a VCR on the TV stand and eyed it
with interest. As the stunned lab crew entered and started to
work, she directed them to dust the recorder and television first.
That done, she clicked them both to the 'on' position. Blake moved
closer as Paul Blaisdell's image appeared on the set.
Blake couldn't contain his surprise, "That's a speech that
Blaisdell gave two years ago to one of the local civic organizations.
How did Duncan get this?"
Jody hit eject and eyed the tape, "Looks like he stole it
from Channel 3's archives. Won't Sandra Mason love that."
One of the lab technicians approached the detectives,
"Excuse me, ma'am, sir, but I think you should look at this.
It's already been dusted and cataloged." With that the young
woman handed Jody a book. The subject matter was on medieval
history. Jody recoiled in horror as she realized that the multiple
bookmarks in the tome were all on pages showing implements of
torture.
Blake's only comment was a simple, "Oh, shit" as the
pair doubled their efforts to find some lead on Peter Caine's
whereabouts.
*********************************************
Mary Margaret watched in fascination as Kwai Chang
Caine prepared to meditate. He lit the candles in his room and
then settled on the floor in front of them. Folding his lean body
into a full lotus position, he began to center himself. Reaching
out with his mind, he began his pursuit of Peter's thoughts.
"Peter, my son, talk to me." Desperation colored even
Caine's mental tones.
"F...father?" Peter's mental reply was weak and filled
with pain.
Cringing at the depth of pain he felt through his link,
Caine responded, "Peter, we are searching for you. Can you
tell me anything about where you are?"
"N..no, Father, I..I don't KNOW! OH, GOD!! PLEASE
make him stop!" Peter's scream reverberated through Caine's body.
"Father! Help ME!" Peter's cries were silenced.
Skalany rushed forward and barely managed to keep Caine
from collapsing. He weakly fumbled for his pouch and Mary
Margaret quickly pulled it to his hand. A quick infusion of an
herb she didn't recognize returned much of the color to his face.
Keeping a comforting hand on his arm, she said, "Did
you get anything?"
Caine nodded, "I was able to see briefly through his eyes
before the connection ended. The room he is in has concrete block
walls and is very dark. I also believe I saw an Iron Maiden."
"An 'Iron Maiden'?" She asked, confused.
"Yes, it is an implement of medieval torture. The figure
has the shape of a woman. In its most common form, the victim
is placed inside. As the two halves slowly come together, spikes
built into the chamber, impale him. Death is slow, and painful."
"Let's go back to the station. They need to know this."
Skalany helped a grateful Caine to his feet. Keeping a worried
eye on him, she guided him once again to her car.
*************************************************
Kermit, Jody and Blake hit the door of Karen Simms'
office almost simultaneously. The Captain silenced the trio
with a glare. "Thank you, one at a time. Powell?"
Jody glanced at Blake then brought everyone up to speed
on what they found. Kermit and Simms grimaced as they
absorbed the impact of the picture gallery in Duncan's rooms.
Blake nodded an agreement as Jody concluded, "It looks to me,
us, like this nut-case has been tracking Peter since he left the
asylum. How the hell did they let him go, anyway?"
"My turn." Kermit said quickly, nodding to Caine
and Mary Margaret as they entered the cramped office. "The
paperwork indicates that everyone agreed that Duncan was
still unstable, but the majority thought he was now harmless.
Dr. Moore's statement was the lone dissension. Moore argues
that Maxwell Duncan is a consummate actor with a talent for
impersonation. Further, Moore believes that Duncan absorbed
the identity of one of the asylum's more harmless residents for
the interviews. Unfortunately for Peter, Dr. Moore was basically
laughed out of the interview process."
"That explains the video tape." Blake said suddenly,
"Duncan was trying to become Paul Blaisdell."
"And that explains Peter's actions." Kermit said, "Paul
asking for help would get him out - without contacting anyone."
"What about the medieval aspect of all this? Where
does that fit in?" Simms voice was confused, and concerned.
Kermit added, "Part of Moore's interview shows that
Duncan had taken an interest in medieval times."
Caine swayed again briefly as Peter's pain reached
him once more. He strove to embrace the pain for a moment,
then replied to the Captain, "I believe this Maxwell Duncan
is holding Peter in a medieval setting but I am unable to
determine where that might be. I clearly saw an Iron Maiden."
Broderick once again interrupted the group, "Kermit
your laptop is beeping. Thought it might be imp..." He stopped
in amazement as the ex-mercenary flew past him and skidded
to a halt in his office. Sending her remaining detectives away to
continue their current assignments, Simms and Caine followed
the man into his domain.
"Kermit?"
"A list of all locations within one hundred miles that
have medieval torture paraphernalia." He began typing into
his machine, refining the search parameters. "I'm eliminating
all sites that are open to the public. If Caine's imagery was
correct, Duncan must have Peter in an old museum somewhere.
Iron Maidens don't come cheap."
Ripping the list from the printer, Kermit smiled in
satisfaction. "There're only three possible locations within a
twenty mile radius of the old airfield. It's a long shot, but I'm
betting Duncan didn't take Peter far."
Simms quickly dispatched Strenlich and Blake to one
site and Jody and Mary Margaret to the next. Kermit watched
as she holstered her revolver and said, "Well, Detective, let's
get a move on."
"Yes, Ma'am" The former mercenary grinned as he
checked his Desert Eagle. Neither officer said a word as Kwai
Chang Caine quietly accompanied them.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 08 ↑
"Pop's all right. Pop's all right." The words ran through
Peter Caine's head like a mantra. The knowledge gave him a
strength he hadn't even realized he was lacking. The extreme pain
in his shoulder had intensified and he knew that several ribs had
snapped in his last date with the pulleys. The fog that had been
overshadowing his will, had lifted. Whatever the drug in the
dart had been, its effects were now gone. Peter concentrated on
embracing the pain as his father had taught him. Much to his
surprise, the hold the agony had had over him seemed to fade.
"OK, that worked. Now let's try getting loose." Before
he could focus on his bonds, his captor returned. Peter mentally
braced himself for another round of pain. Instead, the man circled
Peter, watching him closely. Peter winced in revulsion as the
madman who held him caressed his hair.
"Pretty Peter. New game. Bored with this one." Waving
his arm around the room, he turned his attention to Peter, "Choose."
Peter struggled to control his surprise at this sudden turn
of events. He could now see his captor clearly for the first time. He
needed time to think. He knew he recognized this creep, but from
where. In an attempt to buy time, Peter took a breath to settle his
frazzled nerves and said, "I..I don't know what to choose. The
choice must be right. I...I need time to think." Suddenly it came
to him, Maxwell Duncan stood in front of him, but Peter could not
fathom how the murderer had come to be free.
Duncan stared at Peter for a moment, then began to
speak, "Time? Time to laugh, Time to die, Time to think?
Right choice? Time to die. Time to weep. OK, think. Be
back soon." With that string of phrases, Duncan turned and
left the room, pausing only to light a fire under a grill near
the door.
Peter lay stunned for a moment as the maniac who
had imprisoned him left. "I can't believe it was that easy."
Shaking his head in disbelief, Peter concentrated on freeing
himself.
He shivered for a moment, then recognized that the
hot and cold flashes were the result of a high fever. Knowing
he would be unable to release himself without aid, he focused
his fading energy on his father,
"Father? Can you hear me?"
"Peter?" Caine's mental tone was hopeful.
"P..Pop, Help m..me." The effort to control his
pain and the struggle to communicate had depleted his remaining
strength.
*************************************************
Kwai Chang Caine felt something akin to panic as he once
again felt the tie to his son slipping away. Peter was weakening.
That much had been obvious. Caine realized that if this contact
was severed, it might never be re-established. He quickly called
upon all of his physical and mental reserves to force his chi through
the weakening link to Peter.
"PETER!"
"T..Thanks, Pop." Peter's mental voice, while still weak,
was noticeably stronger.
Karen Simms turned to speak to Caine in the rear seat of
Kermit's car. Instead, she laid a hand on Kermit's arm and nodded
her head in Caine's direction. Kermit quickly adjusted his rear-view
mirror until he could see the Shaolin. Caine's face was lined with
pain and losing color rapidly.
"Karen, I know you don't really totally believe in this
Shaolin mystical stuff but.." he paused and glanced at his Captain.
"He's connecting to Peter, isn't he, Kermit?"
"Oh Yeah. Kind of a Shaolin jump start. And it looks
to me like he needs help. I'm driving so I can't do it and we don't
have time to stop. That leaves you."
"What do I do?" Karen's voice was slightly shaky but
determined.
"Take both of his hands in yours, close your eyes and
relax. I think he'll be able to use your strength to help him help
Peter."
Nodding, Karen Simms adjusted her position in the
passenger seat to link hands with Caine. Relaxing was more
difficult due to a primordial fear of the unknown as well as the
uncomfortable twist in her body. Breathing deeply, she closed
her eyes and focused on one thing - Peter Caine seated at his
desk at the 101 st. She made one fearful gasp as she suddenly
felt energy leaving her body. It seemed an eternity before she
felt a return squeeze on her hands, then they were released.
She opened her eyes weakly as she heard Caine's voice.
"You honor my son with your compassion."
Karen Simms focused slowly on Caine's smiling
face.
"You're welcome, Caine." She croaked feebly.
Kermit turned his head to eye her with concern as
Caine reached into his pouch and withdrew some herbs.
Handing them to Karen, he said, "You must eat these slowly
and rest for a while."
She eyed the concoction suspiciously for a moment,
then proceeded to eat the herbs. Grimacing at the taste, she
nevertheless continued to chew slowly, forcing herself to
swallow. "God, those taste bad."
"Indeed. That is what Peter says." Caine smiled
warmly at his son's commander. Turning to Kermit, Caine
informed the pair, "Peter is conscious and the connection
between us is solid now. He is still weak but I," Pausing, he
smiled again at Karen, "we have shared our chi with him."
Frowning now, he went on, "We must hurry. I do not believe
that Peter will be allowed to live much longer. And Kermit,
it IS Maxwell Duncan who holds my son."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 09 ↑
Peter Caine tensed with anticipation as he felt his
father's chi merge with his. He concentrated on absorbing as
much life-force as possible, knowing it was his only chance to
escape with HIS life. Sensing his father was sending too much
energy his way, Peter tried to cut the flow. Caine, however,
refused to permit it. Peter was on the verge of protesting more
vigorously when his father's chi suddenly strengthened. The
young detective was quick to realize that his father was being
supplemented by someone. Offering up a quick prayer of
gratitude, Peter concentrated on loosening his bonds.
So intense was his concentration that he almost missed
the audible pop of the restraints releasing his left wrist. Gasping
in pain, he winced as he attempted to move the once imprisoned
arm. Slowly, he forced his left hand to assist his right in freeing
itself. That done, he lay gasping for air, throat filling with bile
as he fought the nausea brought on by the motion of his damaged
body.
Knowing he didn't have much time, Peter pushed himself
into a sitting position. The pain in his arms, chest and abdomen
was incredible. It took all of his will-power to remain conscious.
It did not take long for him to comprehend that bending to release his
ankles was impossible. Sliding forward on his rump, he bent his
knees and stretching forward, freed first one, then the other ankle.
Peter focused on slowly twisting his body toward the
edge of the rack. Dropping his feet to the floor, he held tightly
to the edge of the platform as he eased himself upright. His legs
buckled underneath him and he tightened his hold on the rack.
Clinging desperately to the security of the wood, he willed strength
into his cramping calf and thigh muscles. Sighing in relief as the
pain eased somewhat, Peter lurched toward the door. His first step
was his last. In his exhaustion, he had failed to realize that the pain
in his legs had come from hairline fractures. Placing his full weight
on his left leg had caused the weakened bone to snap, sending him to
the floor in a wave of agony. Struggling to control the pain, he pulled
himself across the floor toward the only avenue of escape he saw.
He blanched, and his hand froze, as he reached for the already
turning knob.
**************************************************
Captain Karen Simms lay back against the passenger
seat of Kermit's car. "Caine's herbs really helped", she thought,
"but why do I feel so, so drained?"
"The feeling will pass but you must rest." Caine's voice
was firm but filled with compassion, and gratitude.
Simms sighed. Somehow she didn't want to know how
Caine did even half of the things she'd heard about The herbs
took hold and she slipped quietly into a healing slumber.
"She will be fine Kermit." Caine responded to another
as yet unasked question.
Reaching over to touch her hair, Kermit could only
reply, "Oh, yeah!"
Kermit refocused his attention on the road. Caine
eyed him curiously as he drove past a dilapidated concrete
building.
"That's the building. It used to be a wax museum but
the owners went bankrupt. It's been on the market for years."
"Peter is there." Caine's voice was calm, betraying
none of the fear and anger that he was experiencing.
"Right." Kermit killed the lights and the engine,
letting the card roll slowly to a stop behind a nearby dumpster.
"Karen, we're here but you need to rest, so we're going in
without you."
"Like hell you are, Griffin." Karen pushed open her
door, and went to rise. Dizziness overwhelmed her and she
fell back on the seat.
"Captain, you have already done enough for my son."
Caine spoke softly, "You will endanger your own life if you
attempt to accompany us in your current condition. Perhaps
if you call for 'backup'?"
Recognizing that she would be of no use in their
rescue attempt, Karen Simms reluctantly nodded her agreement and
took the cell phone that Kermit handed her.
Kwai Chang Caine's body resembled an antenna
as he turned stiffly to face the old museum. Reaching out
with a gentle psychic touch, he sent words of reassurance
to his only child.
"Peter? Please. Hold on. We are coming, my son."
Caine frowned as his mental fingers brushed briefly
against Peter's pain, and fear. With the grace of a cat, Caine
moved away from the car toward the old building before Kermit
could restrain him.
"Caine, wait." Kermit called softly not wanting to
risk detection.
"There is no time." Caine replied in a tone that sent
a chill up Kermit's spine, "Maxwell Duncan has returned."
********************************************
The door opened slowly, as if Duncan was afraid of
hitting something with it. Maxwell Duncan slipped into the
room and stared, emotionless at the shivering form of Peter
Caine.
"Oh, poor pretty Peter. Cold? Warm you soon." With
that Duncan stepped casually over Peter's body. Grasping a
spool of cord, he turned and bent down toward the cop. Peter
couldn't repress a scream as Duncan cruelly twisted his right
arm to meet his left, binding them tightly together behind his
prisoner's back. Shoving Peter over onto his back, Duncan
took a moment to sit back on his knees to enjoy his handiwork.
Once again, the madman stroked the young detective's
hair. "Yes, Peter Piper. Warm you soon."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 10 ↑
Karen Simms watched in dismay as the two men moved
toward the old building. So intent was she on watching them, that
she almost dropped the cell phone when it rang.
"Simms" Her voice was still shaky but growing stronger.
Jody's irate voice could be heard through the line, "What
the HELL is Kermit thinking? OR NOT THINKING! Peter is about
to be KILLED and Mary Margaret and I get sent to a GOD-DAMNED
COSTUME SHOP by the uninspired name of 'Medieval Lords and
Ladies'. Oh, and IF I don't kill him, the Chief WILL - KERMIT
sent them to an old record store specializing in, are you ready for
this, the group 'IRON MAIDEN'. Not an instrument of torture in
sight, ANYWHERE. The Chief's so mad he's actually sputtering."
Jody finally paused for breath, giving the Captain her opening,
"Peter's here."
Jody's voice immediately calmed, "Peter's there?"
"Yes."
"You're sure?"
"Caine says so. Kermit and he have gone to scout ahead.
You two head on over here. I'll talk to Frank."
"We're on our way." Jody broke the connection.
Bracing herself for the conversation to come, Karen Simms
dialed Chief Strenlich's cell phone.
*****************************************************
Kermit quickly caught up with Caine at the southern
entrance to the building that imprisoned Peter Caine. The grim
expression on the Shaolin's face told him too much. The former
mercenary slipped in front of the priest and checked the door. He
was not surprised to find it locked. Caine caught his arm as Kermit
pulled his lock-picks from his pocket. Kermit flashed his friend a
grin as Caine deftly maneuvered the tumblers with his chi and pushed
the door open.
Caine paused for a moment in the doorway, his Shaolin
senses seeking the correct route to his son. He turned quickly to
the left telling Kermit,
"Peter freed himself from his bonds as we arrived at
this location."
"Way to go kid!" Kermit barely managed to keep his
voice to a whisper, then added in confusion. "B..but you said
Duncan had returned?"
"Yes, he has. Peter is once again physically bound,
but the drugs that bound his spirit have lost their power over him.
He is being held in the center of the building. This is the only
way in, or out, of his prison. We must hurry, he is gravely
injured."
"Oh, Yeah!"
The two men moved stealthily along the corridor. Caine
suddenly stumbled into Kermit.
"Caine?"
The Shaolin stopped and held up a hand to silence the
ex-mercenary. Caine appeared to be listening to something, or
someone. His head tilted with concentration. Turning to
Kermit, he said,
"Maxwell Duncan's insanity has grown stronger. I can
plainly feel his delight as well as his pain. He is attempting to
make a decision."
"What kind of decision?"
Caine's voice sounded hollow in the empty corridor, "He
is trying to decide exactly how he will kill my son."
*****************************************************
Maxwell Duncan remained on his haunches for an eternity
as far as Peter was concerned. Duncan patted his captive's head
and shifted positions to Peter's side. In a move only understood
by the madman, Duncan lifted the bound detective gently into
his arms and carried him toward the center of the room. Taking
care not to abuse Peter's broken leg, Duncan leaned the confused
man carefully against a pole. Peter slumped heavily into the
support offered by the shaft, and attempted to will energy into
his exhausted body. Duncan wandered merrily away from
Peter and became occupied with something that Peter was quite
sure he did not want to know about.
The prisoner carefully took stock of his new situation. The
broken leg had obviously ended his ability to escape unaided from
Duncan's lair. His arms, bound tightly as they were behind his back,
were now completely numb. The dizziness that threatened his balance,
and the chills he felt, told him his fever was much too high. His one
'good' leg ached with the strain of totally supporting his body weight,
and he doubted he had enough strength left to launch any one legged kicks
at Duncan. The only option he had left was to buy time, but how?
Attempting to control his rising fear, he sent his thoughts in search
of his father,
"Pop, you better hurry. I don't think I've got much time
here."
"My son, Kermit and I will be with you shortly. Conserve
your strength. Do not attempt to talk." Caine cut the connection.
"Talk?" Peter suddenly grinned, "Why not?" Shifting his
weight in an effort to keep his balance caused a new wave of agony
to course through his body. Stifling a moan as the pain threatened
to overwhelm him, Peter forced himself to focus on his adversary.
Remembering his earlier success at delaying Duncan's plans,
Peter took a deep breath,
"Duncan."
No response.
"Maxwell."
Still nothing. Peter's frustration was growing.
"Mr. Duncan."
The madman slowly turned to silently eye his captive.
"Do you have time to talk?" Peter mentally crossed his
fingers and hoped he'd hit on the right series of words.
Duncan's eyes widened for a moment, "Time to talk?"
He moved closer to Peter, pausing only to stoke the fire in what
Peter now realized was a fire-pit. "Yes, time to talk."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 11 ↑
"Time to talk. Time to weep. Time to die. So talk."
Duncan eyed Peter callously.
"Great" thought Peter, "Now what? What do you say
to a madman?" Undaunted he said aloud, "Mr. Duncan, I
seem to recall meeting you a long time ago."
Peter watched him carefully, trying to determine the
key to his behavior. The fixation with 'time' was obvious and
Duncan's most common words were biblical in origin. Hoping
he was doing the right thing, Peter elected to use the word 'time'
as much as possible. Continuing his apparent monologue, he
went on,
"At the time, I do not believe we actually met but ..."
Duncan interrupted, "No time to meet. No need to
meet. Already know you." He stopped, trying to move parts
of the puzzle that was his mind, into place. "Knew you then,
know you NOW!"
Peter watched in fascination, combined with no small
degree of terror, as Duncan walked to a cabinet on the wall and
opened the doors. Peter sighed with relief as Duncan removed
what appeared to be a large scrapbook. He moved over to Peter
and held up the open book, showing his young prisoner the early
entries, yellow with age. Newspaper clippings and drawings
copied from the clippings were pasted haphazardly on brightly
colored paper. They showed Peter Caine in a variety of situations,
mostly involving his work with the 101 st. Peter's fevered brain
could only register that he didn't know he'd been in the local paper
that much. Injured and ill as Peter was, it took him a moment to
realize that Duncan's scrapbook had to have begun shortly after
his incarceration. Duncan was smiling slightly as he slowly
turned the pages of his book. He took obvious pleasure in each
image of Peter Caine. Peter's eyes widened in horror as he
discovered that he had been 'stalked' from a mental hospital by
the man in front of him.
"Nice, very nice. When did you find time?" Peter really
hoped he was not making a mistake with that question.
"Time? Lots of time. Doctors thought it good. You like?"
Anger surged through Peter Caine. The hospital staff
had encouraged Maxwell Duncan to keep a scrapbook. This
nut-case had kept a scrapbook on HIM and the hospital let him
out. "What the hell is wrong here? Are those people nuts? This
guy needs serious help - in a padded cell." Peter remembered
that Duncan had asked him a question. Struggling to keep his
anger from revealing itself in his voice, he answered, "Oh, yes,
very much. Do you have time to tell me about the pictures?"
Duncan eyed his captive suspiciously and returned to the
fire-pit. He stoked the fire a moment longer then began loading
burning embers into a large, wide-mouth bucket. Turning carefully,
Maxwell Duncan winked at Peter and moved slowly away from
the fire-pit, carrying the smoldering bucket.
Not normally at a loss for words, Peter's high fever
and weakened condition combined to make continued banter
difficult. In the hopes that Kermit and his Pop would get to
him soon, he sent frantic thought waves their way,
"Hurry, Pop, I'm running outta things to say." Aloud,
he gulped and said desperately, "I don't suppose you ever have
time for hockey?"
**********************************************
"It's like a damn maze in here. Are you sure you know
where we're going?
Caine spared time to shoot Kermit a reproachful look
then moved steadily back down the hall.
"Never mind. Sorry, stupid statement."
Caine's voice was soft but laced with worry, "Peter
is attempting to buy time by talking to Duncan."
"Talking? If anyone can do it, Peter can. If talking
was classified as a weapon, then Peter would have to register
his mouth as a deadly one."
Caine paled suddenly, "Kermit, Duncan has made
his decision. I cannot be sure what he aims to do. The only
thing I am sure of is that Duncan plans to die with Peter."
"Oh, shit."
**********************************************
"Time to talk. Time to weep. Time to die."
Duncan's voice faded as mind seemed to be wandering. He
ceased speaking altogether and stared into space.
Peter's own thoughts were chaotic. "Think, Peter.
think. Eight years ago. Damn that's a long time. Breath,
Peter, relax." The broken ribs prevented him from breathing
as deeply as he wished. A calm overtook him as he found
his center. He forced his mind backwards in time. It was not
long before he could see the case files in front of him. All of
Maxwell Duncan's previous victims' images flew past his inner
eye, too fast to be seen. Slowing his mental view proved to
be very difficult. As the pictures swirled slower and slower in
his mind, Peter realized something he had been too green to
see eight years before - all the victims bore a remarkable
resemblance to each other. All had hazel eyes, dark hair, and
if memory served him correctly, they were all about the same
height and weight.
Peter Caine pulled himself back into the present as he
caught a quick movement to his left. Duncan was moving
swiftly around the room, casually setting fire to anything that
would burn. The old carpet and ragged tapestries were eager to
take the flames. As the fire spread rapidly throughout the room,
Duncan returned to Peter's side. Without any warning, he viciously
kicked Peter's one good leg out from under him. Peter screamed in
pain, and terror, for as he fell he heard Duncan say,
"Time to pay the Piper, Peter!"
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 12 ↑
Karen Simms waited impatiently for backup to arrive.
Her head no longer ached and her hands had finally stopped
shaking. She was growing more concerned with each passing
moment. Kermit and Caine had been gone far too long.
"Damn you Kermit Griffin - I should never have let
you go in, particularly with a civilian." She laughed to herself
as she realized just how ridiculous that statement had been. She
would not have been able to stop Kermit, and Caine, well, Caine
was no ordinary civilian. Many in her precinct would prefer
Caine as backup over their fellow officers. A very loud popping
sound drew her attention upward. The sight of smoke sent her
mind reeling.
"OH, SHIT!" Whirling, she grabbed the cell phone and
dialed 911.
***************************************************
"In here" Caine's voice was grim. He handed Kermit
one of his silk handkerchiefs, saying only, "You will need this."
The Shaolin once again used the Caine method to
release the lock on the door. As he moved to enter, Kermit
grabbed for his arm, but missed.
"Caine, wait, I'M the cop ... Oh, never mind." Kermit
re-checked his Desert Eagle and flung himself through the doorway
after the Shaolin.
***************************************************
Maxwell Duncan whirled in astonishment as his private
playroom was invaded. The smoke was just thick enough to
visually conceal him from the invaders. Duncan knew that whoever
had entered wanted to end his game prematurely. This could not
be allowed. He and Peter Piper had to be together or the game
would be forfeit.
Moving with a stealth only possessed by the truly insane,
Duncan went back to his cabinet. His thoughts were chaotic,
"He's mine, you can't have him. I won't let you have him. Time
to weep, time to die. Peter Piper must die, will die." Reaching
unerringly into the cabinet before him, he removed a large,
very sharp machete. Smiling, he kissed the blade and moved
swiftly toward the door.
**************************************************
Peter sensed rather than saw Duncan leave his side. Too
confused now to realize that rescue had come, he could not fathom
why Duncan had left.
"Concentrate, Peter, let's try getting free." The injured
man tried to center himself but failed. Coughing heavily, Peter
turned carefully onto his side, trying not to scream, as the bones
in his leg shifted once again. He could not feel his hands, but
knew they must be still bound since he could not bring them
towards his face. In what he hoped was a twisting motion, Peter
forced his numb arms and hands to move. Freeing his hands
would give him a chance at life, and Peter Caine was not yet
ready to surrender to death without a fight.
**************************************************
Caine's Shaolin radar continued to guide him toward his
son. Kermit seized his worn brown jacket to keep from losing the
Shaolin in the smoke. The ex-mercenary had taken a moment to
cover his mouth and nose with the silk handkerchief. There was
no help for his eyes. They streamed tears as he struggled to keep
up with Caine.
Suddenly Caine swirled and shoved Kermit roughly to
one side. A machete blade intersected with Kermit's location
thirty seconds after he had vacated it. The insanity in Maxwell
Duncan's eyes was evident even through the smoke.
"You can't have him. He's mine." Duncan's voice
was a hoarse whisper.
"Why do you wish to harm m.., Peter?" Caine kept his
words non-threatening. He had no wish to harm the pathetic
man in front of him.
"Harm?" Duncan seemed genuinely confused by Caine's
wording. "No harm. KILL"
"That's just what we need." Kermit thought as he climbed
back to his feet. "A madman with a purpose." Aiming his gun at
Duncan, Kermit was about to speak, when Caine pushed his gun
arm down and moved between the ex-mercenary and the madman.
"CAINE!" Kermit was livid.
Kwai Chang Caine ignored the angry tone and continued
his dialog with Duncan.
"My son has done you no harm. Yet you wish to kill him."
"Not YOUR son. No one's son. Must die. Time to weep.
Time to die." With that Duncan flung himself at Caine, swinging
the machete as he went. Caine's reflexes took over and a swift
side kick sent Duncan reeling into the smoke. Maxwell Duncan's
screams indicated that he had landed in the flames. Caine moved
toward the howls, but they went silent too soon. Trembling he
refocused his thoughts and returned to the task of saving Peter.
**************************************************
The flames increased in intensity as they spread their
way toward the recumbent figure of Peter Caine. The youngest
Caine was by now too tired and injured to notice the commotion
in the room. Blood from injured wrists pooled on the floor
behind his back. His struggles to free himself now over, he
ignored the tears that coursed down his face. He could only
watch in terror as the fire moved steadily toward him. The
smoke was growing worse, and Peter prayed that it would take
him before the flames.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 13 ↑
Nightmare images from years gone by played with the
thoughts of Peter Caine. Temple flames of the past merged
with the inferno of the present to compound his terror. Suddenly
his father's figure appeared above him.
"Father, help me!" Peter's voice faded as smoke and
pain combined to claim his consciousness, not yet certain his
father was really there.
Caine knelt by Peter's side and gently pulled him into
his arms, mindful of his many injuries.
"Oh, my son," Caine could hardly speak. Kermit
hurried to the other side of Peter, coughing violently. Caine
held Peter tightly as Kermit worked to cut the cords that bound
Peter's arms together. Caine released his hold on his son long
enough for Kermit to reposition Peter's arms on his chest. Kwai
Chang Caine then allowed himself a moment to kiss the fevered
brow of his only child. Kermit steadied the priest as he rose,
Peter cradled in his arms. Together, they fled the burning
chamber of horrors.
***********************************************
Karen Simms watched in fascinated horror as the
roof over the concrete structure started to collapse. She cried
out in relief as the ash covered figures appeared in the doorway.
Rushing forward she pulled Kermit clear of the door as the
ceiling collapsed. Caine moved unerringly away from the
building and sank slowly to the ground, still cradling the still
form of his son. Taking one, then the other of Peter's arms
between his hands, he gently massaged them to restore the
circulation. Simms rushed back to the car and returned quickly
with the emergency blanket from the trunk. Caine gratefully
took it from her and wrapped it around the shivering, naked form
of his son.
Simms hovered worriedly about the trio, "Ambulance
is on the way. Duncan?"
Kermit's grim look told her the wretched man would never
trouble them again. Directing her next statement to Caine, she
asked gently, "How is he?"
Clearing his voice, Caine croaked, "He is badly injured,
but I fear for his sanity as much as his life." He coughed loudly
as the effects of the smoke took hold. Kermit, meanwhile, had
fallen to the grass beside the Caines. Gasping for air, he reached
up and squeezed Karen's hand. With his free hand, he reached
over to gently touch Peter's face, as if to assure himself that the
younger man lived.
Sirens - police, fire and ambulance - could be heard
approaching. Skalany and Powell slid their car into the yard
and exited in unison. Strenlich and Blake were not far behind.
Fire personnel quickly set up their lines while the paramedics
raised toward the figures in the grass. Ignoring the protests
of the two men, oxygen masks were forced over the mouths of
Caine and Griffin. Two paramedics went to work on Peter,
once they had been successful in carefully prying him from his
father's grasp.
Working quickly, they stabilized the broken leg and
dislocated shoulder. Recognizing the abdominal bruising and
swelling as possible kidney or liver damage, one of the medics
summoned the life-flight helicopter. In a shorter time than
anyone had deemed possible, Peter was secured aboard.
Caine moved toward the chopper. His voice was still
hoarse from the smoke, "Please, I must be with my son."
"I'm sorry, sir, there's no room for the medics and
a passenger. The ambulance will transport you to the same
hospital." The young woman wouldn't meet Caine's eyes as
she worked to attach IV's to Peter.
"Come on Caine," Mary Margaret said quietly, "Let
them do their jobs. They'll take good care of Peter."
Tearfully nodding in acquiescence, Kwai Chang Caine
joined Kermit in the waiting ambulance. Simms, and the rest of
her detectives, followed closely behind as the injured were
transported.
***********************************************
Peter was already in surgery when the ambulance
carrying Caine and Kermit arrived. It took all of Skalany's
persuasive powers to convince Caine that the hospital staff
would find him when they had news of Peter. In the end,
it was only the need to keep Kermit still and on oxygen,
that made Caine stay also.
Two hours later, Dr. Sabourin, entered the room
that imprisoned the two men.
"Doctor, how is my son?"
"How is Peter?"
The remarks were spoken in unison by the pair in
the beds. Sabourin eyed the concerned duo for a moment.
She considered her words carefully,
"He should live, baring further complications. We've
moved him to ICU. We've been successful in stabilizing him.
He was in deep shock. There is major bruising to his abdomen
but fortunately, no kidney or liver damage. There are hairline
fractures in both arms and one leg. The other leg was luckily
broken cleanly in two. Several of his ribs are broken and his
breathing was labored. One of his lungs was punctured and
the smoke inhalation didn't help that situation. We're giving
him antibiotics to help fight infection and, maybe, ward off
pneumonia. There's severe muscle strain and some ligament
damage. When he recovers," Sabourin mentally refused to
consider the death of Peter Caine, "he'll be in therapy for quite
some time."
"When can I see my son?" Caine's voice trembled with
emotion.
"I'll have someone take you up in a little while, after he's
settled in ICU. And yes, Detective Griffin, you'll be allowed in
for a short time also." She smiled warmly at the ex-mercenary,
nodded in respect to Caine and left the room. Kermit glanced
at the priest. Caine's eyes were shut and he appeared to be
offering up prayers of gratitude for his son's life. The jaded cop
watched for a moment before he too began a thankful dialogue
with a long ignored deity.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 14 ↑
A heavy rain was falling when Maxwell Duncan's ashes
were interred. To no one's surprise, Caine officiated at the funeral
of the abandoned soul. Peter's closest friends from the 101 st,
were also in attendance. The Shaolin's capacity for forgiveness
appeared to inspire similar feelings in those who knew the priest,
and his son.
**************************************************
Caine sat unmoving beside his son's bed, Peter's hand
grasped in his. Every so often, he reached up and traced an
imaginary line from Peter's forehead down to his chin, silently
comparing this man to the child from the temple. There were
as many similarities as there were differences. The gentle
heart was the same in the adult as it had been in the child.
The pain in the adult mirrored that of the child. It was,
however, more intense in the adult. Caine ignored the tears
that began to flow from his eyes, refusing to release his hold
on Peter for even one second. Peter stirred on the bed and
cried out hoarsely, "Father!"
"I am here, my son. You are safe now." Caine gently
stroked his child's hair, trying to will peace into a troubled
spirit.
"Why?" The single word revealed enough pain for
multiple lifetimes.
Knowing Peter referred to his attack and not his father's
presence, the Shaolin sighed deeply and searched momentarily
for the correct words. Kermit, upon his release had turned up
the events that had resulted in Maxwell Duncan's madness.
"Maxwell Duncan's father was killed saving his four
year old son from a house fire, caused by the child playing
with matches. His mother, obviously unstable herself, never
recovered from her husband's death, and blamed the child.
The boy grew to adulthood with images of his dead father
enshrined around him. The father bore a physical resemblance
to you and the other victims. Just before victim one, eight years
ago, Maxwell Duncan's mother died. In light of Duncan's
madness, her body was exhumed. She had been poisoned.
Of all the victims, you looked the most like Duncan's father.
That's why you had to burn and he had to die with you."
"T..thanks, Pop. Love you." Peter's voice was weak
with fatigue.
"I love you, also, my son. Rest now."
Kwai Chang Caine knew that soon they must discuss
what Peter had endured. But now was not the time. He watched
in loving silence as his beloved son slipped quietly into a healing
slumber. In time, Caine knew Peter would be physically healed.
His son's emotional healing would take longer but Caine knew
he would be there. He had nowhere else to go.