Part 15
The time had nearly passed, but Peter was still only semiconscious. *Perhaps it’s for the best.* Mandy thought, looking into the half-focused hazel eyes of the man she’d grown to love. *I would never be able to pull the trigger if you were totally awake. Your soul-searching eyes would be the death of us *both*.
Mandy struggled to pull the last of Peter’s clothes into place. She tugged at the bulky hand-knit sweater then stepped back and surveyed her work. He looked so calm, lying there in twilight sleep. He had opened his eyes only a moment, then drifted back into his drug-induced world of darkness. His expression was one of peace, just the way he looked when he slept after. . . .
*No!* Mandy mentally screamed at herself. *You can’t let yourself go there. This is going to be hard enough as it is. Don’t think about his skin against yours. Don’t remember that special look he had as ecstasy overtook him. Just don’t!*
True to her word, Xia returned when the hour had passed, almost to the second. With her were two massive helpers. They dragged Peter by the arms into a straight backed chair in the center of the room and cuffed his hands behind him, around the back of the chair. His head lolled forward on his chest, the drugs still in control of his system. Mandy gasped as one of the men grabbed a handful of Peter’s hair and pulled his head back. Satisfied that he would be no threat, the pair left after a gesture from Xia.
Mandy, Xia and Peter were in the room alone. A million thoughts raced through Mandy’s mind, plans, schemes, half-formed ideas. She rejected them all. None of her hastily hatched plans had a chance of working. The only way that she would ever see the light of day was to follow through on the path on which she’d been placed. Looking down at the latex gloves and the 9mm Beretta in Xia’s extended hand, she recognized the gun instantly. The pearl handgrip told her that it could belong to no other than the man in the chair, the man she would shoot.
"Remember, Amanda, unless he dies at your hand, your life is forfeit." Xia did not need to remind her. Taking the gloves and the gun that Xia held out, she thought for one brief moment of turning the weapon on the daughter of Tan. A smile crossed Xia’s lips, and Mandy knew that she’d thought of that. The second the gun came up in the wrong direction, the sorceress would take control. No, it had to be this way.
Her hands trembling, tears pouring silently from her eyes, Mandy raised the gun, pointing at Peter’s heart.
"DO IT!" Xia hissed, her meaning clear.
"Peter, I love you," Mandy whispered brokenheartedly, then tightened her finger on the trigger. . . tighter. . . and tighter. . . and then. . . BLAM!
The Beretta’s terrible bass voice spoke of death and pain. She barely heard the sound it made as it hit the floor after tumbling out of her hand. A haze filled Mandy’s mind as the whole scene played out in slow motion. She watched in horror as Peter slammed back against the chair, the force causing it to tumble over. He lay still on the floor, red leaking out from the front of his sweater, darkening the bulky material as the liquid spread. Xia turned away momentarily, catching her breath. Mandy thought she heard a small sob, but dismissed it as her own.
"Leave him!" Xia ordered as Mandy rushed to his side. She extended one hand, horrified at what she had done. Xia pulled her to her feet and dragged the sobbing woman to the door of the cell. "I have called his precinct and left an anonymous message. His friends will be here soon to find his lifeless body. You wanted freedom; now you have it. Go." One last look back and Mandy allowed herself to be led from the room. The last sight that she saw was Peter’s limp body lying on the floor, tangled in the chair. An ominous red puddle was quickly forming in front of him.
***
Strenlich strained to hear to the deep, almost garbled voice on the telephone, his expression changing as he listened. Horror replaced his usual expression as the purpose of the call unfolded. He dropped the handset into the cradle without realizing it when the other party disconnected. Turning to bellow for a pair of his detectives, he found himself face to face with a sling-wearing Kermit and the one they called the Ancient.
"What is it, Frank?" Kermit read worry in the Chief of Detective’s expression.
"That was an anonymous call." the burly man began. His voice was filled with horror and he seemed frozen in shock. "They said that Peter was in Tan’s empty warehouse near the docks. They said to bring a body bag."
The entire bullpen fell into a dead silence. The Chief’s voice, noted for its clarity and carrying power, had filled the room. The first sound that broke the silence was the sound of Kermit viciously slamming his office door behind him, already on the move. Frank turned, brought back to reality by Kermit’s actions. The Ancient stood before him, silent, expectant.
"What?" the chief growled.
"We must go. I feel Peter’s chi. It is hidden in mists, but it has not left for a new existence yet." Strenlich stared at the man for as long as it took for Kermit to emerge from his office. The sling was gone and in his hand was his trusty Desert Eagle.
"Let’s go get Peter," he said softly to Frank. There was no mistaking the threat of death in his words. If Peter was gone, the dying had only started.
[end part 15]
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Part 16
The first thought that entered Peter Caine’s still fuzzy mind, with the sudden onslaught of consciousness, was that there was no air in his lungs. He gasped loudly intaking as much of the precious stuff as he could in a single breath. With the gasp, there came pain, deep, burning pain in his chest and in his arms. He felt as though he’d received a baseball bat to his chest with Babe Ruth doing the swinging. His arms were tangled up in something, pulled hard behind his back. His right arm had that broken-bone feeling.
Opening his eyes while still trying to catch his breath, Peter saw he was in a room, bare of all furnishings except a bed. Looking around, and paying the price in pain, he saw that there was one other piece of furniture, the chair in which he was entangled. He and it were overturned on the floor. His head was filled with cactus and sharp broken glass, the shards stabbing him from the inside. His chest was tight and any movement threatened to steal awareness from him. He felt as if he were wrapped in an ever-tightening cocoon, unable to draw a breath. Shifting a little to his right side to try and relieve some of the pressure from his chest, he became very aware of the injury done to his right arm. It *definitely* had that broken feel as pain lanced from mid-forearm upward to join with the of his torso. Consciousness seemed like such a small price to pay for relief from the pain. He slipped into the darkness once more.
***
Silence filled the Kermitmobile like a deadly cloud. Detective Griffin had insisted on driving despite his injured left arm. He’d had worse and done more. Nothing was going to keep him from going to help his friend. If Peter was indeed dead, nothing would keep his killers alive.
Kermit, Frank Strenlich, and the Ancient arrived at the warehouse more quickly than the law allowed. The unlikely trio exited the car, and with a nod from Kermit, approached the building with stealth and caution. Kermit’s elephant gun was drawn and ready. Frank had his .38 police special out, the safety off. Lo Si was armed with deadlier weapons than either of the men. He carried with him the power of Shambhala. As they neared an open door, Lo Si motioned for the men to stop.
"Peter is alone inside. The others have fled. We must go quickly. Young Caine needs our help." He strode off toward the building despite Kermit’s hissed warning to use caution. Inside, they found that the building was deserted. There were several small rooms along one wall, and the three set about searching them. The Ancient, lead by his Shaolin skills, went directly to the room where Peter lay on the floor.
"Young Caine is here," Lo Si called. "Come quickly. He is injured."
Kermit and Frank raced to the room when LoSi called. Kermit was first through the door, but the burly Chief of Detectives was not far behind. The sight that greeted them when they arrived was not what they had hoped for.
Peter lay motionless on his right side. His arms were pulled sharply back, handcuffed around the back of a wooden chair that was also on the floor. He was breathing in short ragged breaths and a sea of red surrounded him. The Ancient knelt next to him, touching his hand to Peter’s chest.
"His heart still beats." Those terse words from LoSi started Kermit’s heart beating again and he released the breath he didn’t know that he was holding. Stuffing his Desert Eagle into the specially-built holster, he snatched his cell phone from his pocket and dialed 911. Giving the location and a few essential facts, he knelt to join Frank and LoSi on the floor by Peter. Frank had his handcuff keys out and was unlatching the bindings while Kermit removed the chair. Peter’s breathing seemed to ease somewhat when his arms were released.
Kermit put his hand down to steady himself as he rose, wincing as he felt the stickiness of the red pool that surrounded his friend. Something was wrong, though, and he frowned. The texture wasn’t right. He brought his hand up to his face and stared at it, examining it carefully.
"What’s the matter, Kermit?" Strenlich’s voice was tight with worry. "Never seen blood before?"
"Not like this." Kermit spoke without taking his eyes off the crimson hand. He suddenly brought it to his nose and sniffed. "Blood doesn’t usually smell like strawberry jello." A smile suddenly broke out on the ex-mercenary’s face and he pushed LoSi aside, somewhat ungently. Rolling Peter on his back, and receiving a groan of pain from the unconscious man, he examined the bullet hole in Peter’s chest. Frank tried to pull the crazed man away from Peter. His rough handling of the injured detective would surely destroy what little chance they had of getting him to the hospital alive.
Kermit glared at Frank in a look that spoke of slow agonizing death. Frank released him but continued to protest. Before he could say two words, however, Kermit pulled up the bulky sweater Peter wore to reveal a white Kevlar vest with plastic bags full of red liquid taped to it. The "blood" continued to seep from the hole where the bullet had pierced one of the largest bags. Another leaked from a tear, probably caused when Peter fell.
Frank rocked back on his heels, shocked at what he saw. "What the Hell is going on here?" he uttered in less than his usual bellow.
"What indeed?" Kermit puzzled over the sight, the sound of the approaching ambulance suddenly growing louder.
[end part 16]
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To Conclusion