The Choice

Teaser

Lo Si balanced the teapot and cup on the small tray. He was looking forward to a few moments of meditation and solitude before the energy that was Peter Caine arrived. Kwai Chang Caine's absence from the community had made the elderly man's services in constant demand. He was the only apothecary who carried the knowledge of the ages. Lo Si had to smile. It seemed like old times. It had been over four and a half years since he alone was Chinatown's healer.

He settled his small body onto the floor and brought his legs up into a half-lotus position. A whiff of the ginseng and mint in the tea tickled his nose, but he resisted its invitation and concentrated instead on settling his mind.

A scraping sound, so subtle that Lo Si was tempted to believe he had imagined it, broke into his thoughts. Rising from his cross-legged position, he quietly made his way to the front room. Shadows within the darkness could be seen. At least three men, moving with the grace of tigers, were entering through the window. There was no doubt in the old man's mind about the identity of the intruders: Sing Wah.

Using his Shaolin training, he hid his presence from the enemy. Minutes passed as they searched every room of the small residence for their target. Their efforts, however, were in vain. Reluctantly admitting defeat, the intruders returned to the window from which they had entered, and exited the home.

An impish grin appeared on the old face. It was nice to know his skills had not become rusty with disuse. Suddenly, the elderly man jumped at the sting of pain in the back of his neck. Clutching at the source, his fingers came into contact with cold metal. Grimacing, he yanked out the dart, which had been embedded in the skin.

Gasping at the sudden, unexpected burning which overtook his body, Lo Si swayed unsteadily and then fell to the floor. His vision blurred. He desperately tried to regain his feet, but his limbs felt like lead, his body lethargic.

Through the haze covering his eyes he saw a figure move forward to stand over his inert form. Lo Si gasped at the sight of the intruder. "You!" He couldn't fight the blackness which overtook his mind. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the face of his enemy, and the only thing he heard was the man's cruel laugh.

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Part 1, Scene 1

"Lo Si? You here?" Peter Caine tapped lightly on the partially open door of the Ancient's apartment. The door swung open slowly to reveal a dark room beyond. Receiving no answer from the elderly man was not all that surprising. The Ancient seemed to take an overwhelming amount of pleasure in sneaking up on the young Shaolin priest. Apparently tonight was no different.

Lo Si had invited Peter to his apartment with the promise of helping him in his ongoing, albeit unsuccessful, attempt to understand his new responsibilities as a Shaolin priest. In particular, Lo Si had been marching forward in the continuing effort to teach Peter the basics of herbal healing. The training, up to this point, had not gone well. Peter seemed to be much more adept in his role as a protector, working with Paul Blaisdell, than as a healer. But he had made a promise to Lo Si that he would try to learn the bare necessities of the job. And he made a promise to his father to continue the family business started by his great-grandfather. So now the new Shaolin found himself living in two worlds.

Stepping into the darkened room, Peter extended his senses, bound and determined that Lo Si would not take him by surprise this time. Reaching out with his mind, he felt for the chi of the man whom he had come to love like a grandfather. Instead of encountering the mischievous, whimsical personality, he found pain. "Lo Si?"

The Ancient's weak voice played through his mind. "Peter? Help me."

Now panic clouded the younger man's mind as he rushed into the room, throwing caution to the wind. He made it only a few steps when he saw the outline of the elderly man's body lying on the floor. He turned on the switch of a nearby lamp and knelt down next to the prone body. The man's eyes were glazed over and he appeared to be staring out into space. Fear gripped Peter and he moved a trembling hand to the throat to check for a pulse. It was there, but only barely.

For a moment, Peter was frozen. Despite his experience handling crises as a cop, to see the Ancient so near death was almost beyond comprehension. *Does one call 911 for a Shambhala master?* Common sense took over and Peter grabbed his cell phone from his pocket. Within seconds help was on the way.

The old man's body began to quiver; his breathing became uneven, as his lungs gasped for air. Peter felt a surge of terror power through his body. "Lo Si, don't do this." The Ancient's breathing became even more labored.

His brown eyes met Peter's hazel. "Peter." The old man reached out with a trembling hand, grasping Peter's tightly. He raised his head slightly. "It is not over. Do not worry. . ." The man closed his eyes as he collapsed lifelessly to the floor.

Peter reached out with his chi and searched desperately for the Ancient's. Making contact with the inner spirit was feather soft. Peter was uncertain as to whether the gentleness was the result of Lo Si's lack of strength or was normal for the Master.

The sound of sirens penetrated the night. It was amazing the comfort they brought. Peter squeezed the hand tighter. "Help is here, Lo Si." There was no response.

Peter remembered the last time he saw the elderly man like this. It was during his childhood at the temple. Ping Hi had hidden from an assassin by mocking death.

"Tell me you're faking this, please, Lo Si." Peter closed his eyes and searched his inner being, gathering his chi. He focused his power into the old man. Then he opened his eyes, praying that the brown eyes would be looking back at him. They weren't.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the building. Peter shouted out, "In here!"

Two medics entered the small apartment, equipment in hand. "What do we have?"

"I don't know. I found him like this."

The first medic pushed Peter away from the injured man. Reaching down he grasped the Ancient's small wrist in his hand and took a pulse.

"Heart rate's 110." A blood pressure cuff was fastened to Lo Si's upper arm and the attendant fixed the stethoscope on his ears. "BP 140 over 95. Let's get him out of here, Harris." Peter backed away as the two medics went about preparing the Shambhala master for transport.

They moved the slight body onto a gurney and within minutes the Ancient was being loaded into the ambulance. Peter followed close behind. Before he could step into the back of the vehicle, Harris stopped him. "Are you family?"

Peter hesitated in his answer and then nodded. Harris backed away and held the door open for the young man. Peter climbed in and settled himself next to the gurney. With all of the jostling Peter would have thought there would be some response from the old man, but there was still no sign that he knew what was occurring around him.

Within minutes, the ambulance had pulled into County General and the patient had been unloaded and wheeled into the E.R. Peter followed. Apparently his face and former position in the police department were well-known because no one tried to stop the ex-cop as he followed the hospital personnel and patient into the treatment room.

Dr. Sabourin entered the room and made a beeline to her patient. She studied the old man's features and then looked up and saw Peter standing in the corner of the treatment room. At first, Peter presumed the woman would ask him to leave. Instead she shot him a concerned look. "What happened?"

Peter shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I went to his apartment and he was like this."

She frowned. "We pulled the files we had on him and there's very little to help. We don't even have a date of birth. How old is he?"

"I don't know." Peter shrugged.

The woman looked at the chart. "Heart problems?"

Peter shook his head. "No, never. At least not that I'm aware of."

"Any other health problems?"

"No. . .not that I've seen."

"Does he have family we could ask?"

"Uh. . .yeah. Xiaoli. I'll call her." Peter left the treatment room behind as the doctor bent over her unresponsive patient.

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Part 1, Scene 2

"There were no problems?" An aura of evil surrounded the dark figure.

"No."

"He is dead?"

"He will be. The poison is in his system. He collapsed within seconds of the attack. It is only a matter of time."

The shadowy figure was silent for a long moment. He then turned on the underling. "Do not assume that because the body is sick, the mind is as well. Was Caine there?"

"Yes. He arrived within minutes of the attack."

"He did not detect your presence?"

"It did not appear that he did."

"His concern for the old man overwhelmed his senses, just as I suspected it would. I could not conquer the Shaolin united. Peter Caine is now on his own. His father will not be able to help either the old man or his own son. Divided, the Shaolin will fall." The dark figure demonically grinned at his servant and returned to the shadows, leaving Jack Wong behind in the dark room.

==========================

Part 1, Scene 3

Kwai Chang Caine sat cross-legged on the small porch. He inhaled deeply, savoring the smell of the clean early morning air. Five years of living in the city and the past six months of fruitlessly searching for his deceased wife had caused him to forget the peace that the country could bring.

His exhaustion and sense of defeat had brought him here. There had been no sign of the woman he had loved, no indication of where or how the photo that Lo Si had given him had been taken. Loneliness overwhelmed his emotions. He had turned to the only person he knew of who could help him to heal the gaping wound in his soul caused by his failure.

"My son, am I disturbing you?" came the elderly voice from behind.

Caine turned to face the old man. "No, Father."

Matthew Caine made his way to the old swing next to his son. He settled his slight body on to it and slowly pushed himself back and forth. "I am pleased you decided to visit me." Kwai Chang Caine smiled at his father. The elderly man leaned forward, resting his hands and chin on his cane. He studied his offspring for a long time. "I feel your exhaustion. You must rest."

Caine shook his head. "I cannot."

"Why?"

"I must find the truth."

"The truth?"

"My Laura. I need to discover the truth about her. . .and this." He pulled the now-worn photo from his pocket and handed it to his father.

Matthew studied the picture of the pretty strawberry blonde woman. So, this was his son's wife. . .the mother of his grandson. "Very pretty," he commented as he handed the photo back.

"Yes," Caine agreed. His eyes were fixed on the picture of the woman.

"And you believe she is alive?"

"Yes." The gaze upon the photo never faltered.

"Do you not find it of concern that she would be alive after all of these years?"

"She died in my arms. I have no reason to believe that she is alive other than this photograph, but finding Peter. . .finding you. . . has proven to me that there is always hope." Caine's eyes left the picture to glance at his father with affection.

"Yes. I, too, never thought that we would be sharing this time together." The old man paused for a moment then sat back in the chair. "How long have you been searching?"

"For many months."

"And you have found no other proof?"

Caine shook his head. "But I searched for fifteen years before I found my son."

Father frowned at son. "When do you decide to give up the search?"

Caine shrugged. "I do not know."

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Part 1, Scene 4

Peter hung up the phone and turned to make his way back to the treatment room. Xiaoli was shocked to hear of her uncle's collapse. Peter could understand her surprise. Lo Si had never been ill since Peter had known him. He had no history of medical problems, other than those caused by third party attacks.

With that thought, Peter paused. Had the old man been attacked? He rushed into the treatment room to see the doctor and her personnel still working over the patient. "He may have been attacked," Peter suggested, slightly breathless.

"Attacked?" The doctor frowned.

Peter closed his eyes, picturing the dark apartment in his mind. "There was an open window. An escape route for attackers. I don't think he's ill. Something else happened to him."

The doctor looked into Lo Si's brown eyes, using her penlight to check pupillary response. She then placed her hands around the man's wrinkled neck, checking for swelling around the glands. Pulling her hand away she frowned at the flakes of rust red on her fingers. Turning the Ancient's head to the side she saw a small bloody hole near the base of the neck.

"This looks like a puncture wound," she commented to no one in particular. She then looked up at Peter. "You may be right about him being attacked."

She turned to a nurse. "Draw blood. I want it sent to the lab for analysis."

The man nodded and began the procedure. Dr. Sabourin approached Peter. "He's holding his own. I'm going to have him admitted to ICU until we can tell what course of treatment to take."

"Did he ever regain consciousness?"

The doctor shook her head. "No. I wish he would. It would make it a lot easier to tell what's going on inside of him."

Peter approached the gurney and grasped the old man's hand. Closing his eyes, he tried to communicate. He had been in contact with the man's chi on previous occasions, but this time it felt different. There was something there that didn't belong. Turning to the doctor, Peter whispered, "He was poisoned."

"How can you. . .?" the doctor began to ask and then her voice trailed off. She smiled. "You're like your father. You can. . .feel things. . .can't you?"

Peter shrugged his shoulders. "I don't have his skills."

Dr. Sabourin crossed to the other side of the patient. "Can you tell what kind of poison or what it's doing to him?"

Peter shook his head. "No. I'm not that good."

The woman gave him a look of regret. "You're not going to make this easy on us, are you?"

The young man turned back to the Ancient. He tried to send him the strength of his chi to give added support. He couldn't tell if it helped. There was no sign of change in the elderly face. "I can't do it. . .I can't help him."

"When your father saved that little girl he used herbs. Is there something like that which would save him now?"

Peter shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not. . .I'm not my father." He had to fight a surge of anger at the failure.

"I can try standard treatments, but until we know what we're dealing with. . ."

"We don't stand a chance," Peter completed.

The woman nodded in agreement. Peter walked to the door. "Okay. I'll try to find out more. Maybe someone in Chinatown will know what happened and why."

"I should call the police in light of the poisoning."

"I'll take care of it," Peter reassured the woman.

She nodded and led him from the room. Peter stopped in the doorway and took one last look at the frail body lying so still. "I'll find out who did this. I promise."

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Part 1, Scene 5

Kermit rubbed tired eyes. He had been staring at the computer screen for over eight hours and was no closer to breaking the coded disk than he was when he started.

The disk was found on the body of Kevin Tsen, a suspected drug smuggler who had been shot by the Vice unit during a drug raid. Unfortunately, the only thing seized in the raid was the disk. No drugs were found at the scene. The shipment had been hidden and, if Kermit was right, its location was revealed on the diskette. Unfortunately, every decoding program Kermit had run had failed.

What was even more frustrating was that Kevin Tsen was a runner. He wasn't the deep pocket behind the operation. It was apparent that the criminal was backed by big money, but in this city big money was easy to come by.

He looked out into the squad room and saw that the day shift had gone home hours ago. Standing, he couldn't stifle the yawn which overwhelmed him. Meandering his way amongst the desks, his goal being the coffeepot, he noticed that the Captain's office light was still on. Smiling, Kermit redirected his path and headed for the office marked 'Captain Simms'. Tapping lightly on the door, he heard a quiet, "Come in."

"Can I interest you in some very bad coffee?" Kermit offered.

"Did Blake make it?" The woman returned a quick smile.

"No, Dakota."

"Oh God, no. I didn't think anyone could make coffee worse than Blake's but. . ."

"You have learned that in time, anything is possible." Kermit matched her smile and plopped down on the chair opposite hers.

"Any luck with the disk?"

Kermit shook his head. "Nothing. I have access to Interpol, CIA and MI-6's best decoding programs and I've come up with nothing."

"No ideas about who is behind the shipments?"

"Oh, I have ideas, but I don't have proof," Kermit muttered. Sighing, he stretched his arms above his head. "I don't think it's a coincidence that all of a sudden Vice is finding illegal drugs being distributed in the stores of Chinatown merchants. There's only one person who could exert that kind of influence over the community. . ."

Before Kermit could complete the thought, Simms interjected, "Bon Bon Hai."

"Oh yeah."

Before either could continue, a knock on the door interrupted them. "Yes," Karen called out.

The door opened to reveal a disheveled Peter Caine. "Sorry to bother you, but I need your help."

Karen's raised eyebrows indicated her surprise. "You need our help?"

Peter walked into the room and shut the door behind him. "Yes."

"What's up, Peter?" Kermit moved over to the chair near the wall to give Peter a place to sit. Peter declined and chose to pace in the back of the room instead.

"Lo Si's been poisoned."

"What?" Kermit and Karen exclaimed in unison.

"He's in the hospital. . .he's in bad shape. . .I think he's. . ." Peter swallowed and took a deep breath. "I think he's dying."

"What happened?" Karen stood and rounded the desk to stand next to her former detective.

"I don't know. I'm not sure." Peter's voice was filled with frustration. "Dr. Sabourin found a puncture wound at the back of his neck. She thinks that's how the poison was administered."

Kermit stood next to his friend and rested a strong hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Perhaps you'd better start at the beginning."

"What beginning?" Peter replied rhetorically. "I went to his apartment. He was unconscious. I called an ambulance. And now I'm here." His words were rushed and impatient. Karen had to fight the urge to tell the young man to sit down and take a breath.

"So you don't know who's behind it?" Kermit asked the ex-cop.

"No. If he was attacked in the apartment his assailants were gone before I arrived."

"Who would want to poison Lo Si?" Karen posed.

"I don't know. He's a Shambhala master. As my dad always says, they have lots of enemies."

"Okay, let's approach this from a different angle." Kermit kept his voice even, trying to use his words to calm the emotional man. "Why would one of his enemies pick now to try to kill him?"

Peter shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I suppose there's always a reason."

"But why now?" Kermit pressed.

Karen stepped forward. "What has changed?"

Peter slouched back against the wall. Closing his eyes, he thought through the past few months. Since his father had left for France many things had changed in the community. There seemed to be a growing unrest. The population seemed to sense that its Shaolin protector was gone. Criminal activity was on the rise.

Peter blamed himself for not being a better replacement for his father. Lo Si tried to comfort him, assuring the young man that neither his father's absence nor his own skills were to blame for the turbulence. The Ancient's words, though, didn't help. Chinatown's problems were escalating and there did not seem to be any way to stop it.

"There has been a lot of turmoil in Chinatown lately," Peter finally voiced.

"Turmoil?" Karen narrowed her eyes.

"Yeah. Lo Si commented just the other day about how many people were coming to him to seek his assistance."

"Medical?" the Captain followed.

Peter nodded. "And spiritual. He said that it was like a shadow had fallen over much of the community."

Karen looked at Kermit and nodded. "Do you think this is related to your case?"

"Could be," the ex-mercenary agreed.

"What case?" Peter frowned.

"I've been looking into reports of drug trafficking in Chinatown. Someone is using local merchants to get the goods out on the street. We intercepted a disk which may reveal where the location of the latest shipment can be found. Unfortunately, I can't break the code."

Peter hid his surprise at Kermit's failure. "I haven't heard about this. None of the merchants have said a word to me about problems." Peter looked back and forth between the two police officers. His eyes finally focused on Kermit. They were business partners. He thought they had moved past keeping secrets.

"That may be because of your chosen profession, Peter. You are a priest. And an enemy of our suspect." The Captain returned to her side of the desk and handed a file to Peter.

"Did you hear about the explosion at Lee Chan's record store?" Kermit returned to his chair and plopped down.

Peter nodded. "Yeah. I heard it was caused by a gas leak."

"It was. But it wasn't accidental. A valve on the gas heater was jammed open. Lee smelled the gas. Tried to turn off the valve and couldn't. He barely made it out of the building before it blew," Karen explained.

"Does he know who would do something like that?"

"If he knows who did it, he's not saying. He did say that strangers who wanted to use his shop for 'business dealings' approached him. He refused. And then the explosion occurred. When we asked for details, he clamed up. All we know is that he was being harassed by someone high up in the Chinese community." Karen leaned back in her chair. "Do you have any idea who that someone could be?"

Peter thought for a moment. Only one name immediately sprang to mind. "Bon Bon Hai."

Kermit nodded in agreement. "That's who we were thinking.

Peter continued. "I mean there's always new blood coming into the city and stirring up trouble, but whoever it is that could put fear in the community has to be more than just some fly-by-night operation."

"Would he have reason to go after the Ancient?"

Peter nodded. "Sure. The Shaolin are mortal enemies of the Sing Wah."

Karen shook her head, "We're shooting in the dark here. There's no evidence to tie him to any of this. Bon Bon Hai has been operating in this community for a long time. Why would he wait until now to strike out at the Ancient?"

"Because he can," Kermit said flatly.

"What?"

"My father is gone," Peter completed. "Bon Bon Hai has to know that. He's taking advantage of that now."

"With Caine gone, the community is down one mighty powerful Shambhala master," Kermit added.

Peter felt guilt gnawing at his insides. "I'm certainly no replacement for my father." He sighed deeply. "With my father here, Bon Bon Hai was kept in check. With his absence, Lo Si is the only force standing in his way."

"So he decided to strike out at the Ancient and assert control over the community," Kermit reasoned.

Karen looked at Peter. "But what about you?" She couldn't help the worry which tinged her words.

"What about me?"

"You're Shaolin as well. True, you may not have all the skills of your father, but you are very powerful in your own right," she explained. "Could he consider you a threat?"

Peter started to deny the Captain's words. Before he could say anything, Kermit chimed in. "Kid, she's right. I've seen you do some pretty amazing things. You are a Shaolin priest. And you have some very handy skills. If we're right and Bon Bon Hai is behind this, he may also consider you to be a problem which needs to be removed. You could be his next target."

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