Part 2, Scene 3

Peter knocked on the wooden frame of the apartment door. "Lula? Are you here?"

There was no response. Closing his eyes, Peter extended his thoughts into the room. He felt his mind brush against another's. However, his skills were not developed enough for him to be sure who that 'other' was. Knocking a second time, he repeated, "Lula? It's me. . .Peter."

Once again there was no response. Peter grasped the doorknob and turned, immediately feeling the resistance of a lock. Shaking his head, he muttered, "Great. Guess I can use the practice."

Rubbing his hands together as he had witnessed his father do so many times, Peter felt the heat of the friction build between them. When the energy was at its greatest, he separated the palms and placed his left hand over the lock of the door. As the lock released, he smiled. "You're a good teacher, Pop." Walking into the room he felt movement behind him. Instinctively he ducked as a skillet whistled downward past his head.

Spinning around defensively, he saw Lula standing behind the door, hand covering her mouth. "Peter?" she whispered with a shaky breath. "Thank God it's you."

Peter grabbed the skillet and removed it from her other hand. "Lula? What are you doing? You about took my head off!" Then he stopped and frowned as he took inventory of her condition. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, glassy with tears. "What's wrong?" Peter asked, feeling the woman's fear inside his mind.

"Tell me if you've seen Donny," she pleaded, her voice becoming louder. Reaching out, she grabbed Peter by the arm and pulled him into the room, shutting the door behind him. "I gotta know where he is. You havta tell me."

"Tell you? I don't know. I came here to find out if you knew where he was," Peter explained.

Lula's whispered voice suddenly rose to a shout. "I don’t know where he is. Everyone keeps askin' me, but I don't know."

"Who's asking?"

"Mary Margaret and Jody. And some men."

"Men? Like police?"

"No, not cops."

"How can you be so sure?" Peter asked.

"They weren't cops," she repeated flatly. "They wanted Donny."

"Did they hurt you?" Peter asked, suddenly concerned for the woman's well-being.

"No. . .not this time. They said they'd believe me for now but that if they found out I knew where he was. . .they'd be back."

"They probably thought you would lead them to him if they threatened you."

"But I don't know where he is. And even if I did, I wouldn't lead them to him.. . .They're. . .they're. .. " She paused as if searching for the right words.

"Evil?" Peter completed.

The woman swallowed and nodded. "I told Donny over and over that he needs to go legit, get a real job with a paycheck and vacation time. But no," she paused, taking a breath. "He says he ain't cut out for no nine to five job. That little weasel. . .if he gets himself killed over some damn fool scheme. . .I'll kill him!" Her voice was now back to the Lula-pitch that Peter was used to. The woman's eyes were filled with fury. Suddenly, the blaze intensified as she glared at Peter. She reached out and grabbed the Shaolin priest by the lapels of his jacket. "Is it you? Have you got him involved in something?"

Peter shook his head, trying to extricate himself from her death grip. "No, Lula. I don't have him involved in anything. In fact, Captain Simms asked me to find him. She thinks he may have some important information."

"I thought you gave up bein' a cop," Lula responded suspiciously.

"I did. But it doesn't mean that I gave up helping people. And it sounds like Donny could use some help."

Lula nodded her head slowly. "I think you're right, Peter." She reached out again, making contact with his hand, her touch abnormally gentle. The sorrow in her eyes was evident. Then suddenly the look became hopeful. "Can your father help us to find him? I mean he has mystical powers and stuff, right?"

Peter shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lula, but he's not here."

The woman was crestfallen. Peter squeezed her hand. "I'll find him. I promise." The young Shaolin gave her a reassuring smile and a wink. The woman nodded silently.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Yesterday morning. He kept lookin' out the window. Said he thought someone was after him. He left here and said that he was goin' to the docks. I tried stoppin' him, but he left anyway. He never came home."

"And you didn't call the police?"

"Oh yeah, right. And say what? My husband, the snitch, is missin'?" Lula scoffed.

Peter frowned at the harsh words. "He has friends on the force."

"You were his only real friend. The others. . .they. . ."

Peter shook his head. "No, Lula. They all care about him. . .and you."

Lula closed her eyes. "Yeah. . .I guess you're right. They did come to the marriage and all."

Peter smiled. "They did. And they want me to find him for you now." Peter opened the door and stepped back into the hallway. "I'll go to the docks and see what I can find out there."

The woman nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

Peter took a few steps away and then was halted by Lula's voice. "Bring him back to me, Peter."

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Part 2 Scene 4

The pungent smell of decaying fish assaulted Peter's nose. He could never understand what Donny found so appealing about this place. While Peter held an emotional affinity for the water, finding peace at his secret place, this place was different. The docks were loud and crowded. Garbage and filth were strung about like flotsam and jetsam. This place did not bring peace and tranquillity. It seemed that the only time Peter found any reason to be here was when Donny had some important secret to convey or a body had washed up on the shore.

Peter tugged on the collar of his jacket, bringing it up around his neck. The temperature was dropping. Snow was predicted for the coming night. The change in weather seemed to make it more urgent for him to locate Donny. Even though Peter was certain that Donny was able to look out for himself, a nagging feeling inside kept harping that it was important to make sure he was back in his home, safe and sound.

A slumped over figure sat on a bench next to the edge of the first pier, fishing pole in hand, line dangling out into the water. Peter squinted and nodded. Jeremy Michaels could help the Shaolin find Donny.

Peter approached but the man did not acknowledge his advance. He slid onto the bench next to the fisherman. The old figure did not look up at his uninvited guest.

"Long time, Jeremy."

"Not long enough, Caine," the man grumbled.

"Now is that any way to talk to someone you haven't seen in over a year?" The man didn't answer. Peter looked out across the dark green of the water, the gray sky reflected in its depths. "I'm looking for Donny."

The man shrugged his shoulders. "That's your problem."

Peter ignored the cockiness of the response. "His wife's worried about him. He didn't come home last night."

"Lots of guys don't go home at night. And if I was married to that broad, I'd probably find a reason not to come home too." The man chuckled at his comment. Peter shook his head.

"Jeremy, have you seen him? He could be in trouble."

"Whatcha gonna do if he is?"

"Help him."

"You ain't a cop no more."

"No. But I can still help him."

Jeremy reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled cigar. Digging into the other pocket, he pulled out a beat-up lighter. He seemed to be thinking long and hard about the priest's words. "You'll help him?"

"You know I will."

Jeremy nodded. "He told me he was gonna crash with Bernie. He didn't think it was safe for him to go home."

"Why?"

The man shrugged. "Don't know. Don't wanna know."

Peter stood and tugged down his jacket. "Thanks, Jeremy." He took one step away and then stopped. "Any luck?" He pointed at the fishing line.

"You see any fish here?" the man responded snidely.

Peter gave him a crooked grin and then reached into his wallet, pulling out a bill and handing it to the man. "Go get yourself a good meal."

The old man looked at the bill and then up into the hazel eyes of his benefactor. "Thought you were unemployed."

"No. Just started a new line of work. Worldly possessions are less important, or so they tell me." He winked at the man and then walked away, returning to the Stealth. Within seconds, he was heading the vehicle in the direction of the Stem.

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Part 2 Scene 5

Bernie's apartment was on the second floor of an old residence hotel. The man was an occasional snitch for Peter. As Mary Margaret had once said, the man was lower than pond scum. While Donny had always been a friend, Bernie would stab his own mother in the back if there were a payoff waiting for him. That alone made Peter concerned. Bernie would have no qualms about turning Donny over to someone who was looking for him if that someone was willing to pay.

He made his way up the rickety stairs, reaching out with his senses for any sign of danger. He immediately felt the tingle of emotion. . .of something stronger than fear. He touched pain. Hurrying his steps, he quickened his pace to the room. Reaching the door, he saw light from the interior bleed into the hallway. The door was ajar. Pushing it slowly open, he cringed at the creak of sound from the rusted hinges.

The door opened to reveal a room left in shambles. The few pieces of furniture in the room were overturned. The contents of shelves were lying on the floor. A soft groan came from the bathroom and Peter approached it carefully. All of his instincts told him that there was no threat from the sound, that whoever tossed the room was gone now. He entered the bathroom and found Bernie lying on the floor next to the toilet. His head was wet and a bloody bruise was darkening over his temple.

Kneeling next to the prone figure, Peter reached out and placed a warm hand on the man's shoulder. "Bernie?"

The eyelids flickered and then opened wide in terror. "No more!" he grunted in fear. Bernie's eyes then recognized the face looking down at him and the terror was replaced with skepticism. "Oh, it's you."

"What happened?" Peter pressed.

"Nothin'," the man answered as he pressed the palm of his hand gingerly against the head wound. Peter helped him to a sitting position, leaning him against the bathroom cabinet.

"Nothing?" Peter raised an eyebrow and lifted a hand to Bernie's wet hair. "You mean you always spend your spare time swimming in the toilet?"

Bernie looked at the fixture and shuddered slightly. "I fell."

Peter couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. "Yeah, right. You did a header into the bowl. I don't buy that." He pushed Bernie's hand away from the wound and examined it for himself, gently touching the exterior. The snitch winced at the contact. "Try again."

Bernie took a deep breath, deciding to tell the truth. He thought about his words while he watched Peter reach for a towel in the cabinet. The Shaolin pressed it against the wound to help stop the bleeding. "Men lookin' for Donny."

"Men? What men?"

"I don’t know. Never saw them before and they didn't leave a calling card. . .other than this." Bernie pointed to the wound.

"Was Donny here?"

"No. He's out looking for you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Said he was in trouble and that he had to have your help." Bernie closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cabinet door. "Left here about a half hour ago."

"When did your friends leave?"

Bernie glanced at his watch. "You just missed 'em."

"Did you tell them where Donny was?" Peter asked. Bernie was silent. Peter's hand gripped the man's shoulder. "Damn it, Bernie. Did you tell them?"

Bernie bit his lip and nodded his head. "They were gonna drown me."

Peter stood, pushing the anger down. "Did Donny say where he was going to try to find me?"

"Said that he was going to try your father's place first. After that, I don't have a clue."

Peter spun on the man and ran from the room. Guilt tugged at the back of his mind for leaving the injured man behind, but he was certain that Donny's life was in greater danger.

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