Unfounded Fears

Part 27

"Caine?" Paul whispered, concerned as the priest's face creased in pain. "Hang in there."

"I will be. . .all right," Caine responded in a hush, never opening his eyes.

"That's what you keep saying," the Captain muttered doubtfully. Caine allowed one eye to make contact with the man as he gave him a half-smile. Paul shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry. Guess I should keep my mouth shut."

"You are being honest. But I can assure you, I will be fine. It is just necessary that I rest."

Paul glanced at their captors. The men were in what appeared to be a heated discussion in the corner of the cabin, undoubtedly debating the fate of their prisoners.

He shifted his gaze to Claudia, who sat in the chair on the other side of Caine. The woman smiled and nodded, assuring the Captain that she was maintaining a brave front.

Paul tested his bonds. He had gained a precious fraction of an inch of slack in the rope by tensing his arms as they were being secured behind him. However, it would take time to work enough of the binding loose so that he could be free. He returned his attention to Caine. "I think we're in trouble here."

The injured man raised his head and looked at the armed men. "They are not poachers."

Paul shook his head. "No, they're not. And that has me worried."

"If they aren't poachers, who are they?" Claudia interjected quietly.

The cop shook his head. "Don't know." He turned back to Caine. "Can you. . . sense Peter?"

The injured father closed his eyes. He then opened them and turned back to the Captain. "He is looking for us."

"You can feel that now?"

The priest nodded once. "I can feel his worry."

"But you don't know where he is?"

"He is near."

Paul couldn't suppress the surprise. "Near? Us?" The thought that Peter was close worried Paul as much as it excited him. The young detective was probably the only hope the three hostages had, but at the same time, Paul was intimately familiar with Peter's tendencies to know that he would take unnecessary risks to save them. And, as the impetuous man had proven over and over again, unnecessary risks always led Peter to trouble. . .and a hospital room.

He tested the ropes again. He had made some minimal progress. "I just need time," Paul whispered.

Before Caine could respond a steel-toed boot connected with Paul's thigh, the sudden shock of pain making him gasp. He redirected his attention to the source of the assault.

"No talking," Jake growled.

"Or what?" Paul scoffed. "You kill us?"

Jake gave him a sadistic grin. "No, we have fun before we kill you."

"More fun than this?" the Captain responded sarcastically.

Jake moved over to Claudia and let his hand move to her cheek. "Remember, I can always turn Chet loose on her."

Claudia scowled, but said nothing. Paul, likewise, remained silent. Any response from him would only lead to misdirected retaliation and as long as the three were at a strategic disadvantage, retaliation could be deadly.

The tracks had been easier to follow than Peter had originally expected. Of course this was only because the blood trail he was following was so clear, which worried him.

Ignoring the rising pain of over-exertion, he pushed himself faster, knowing that speed was essential if he wanted to help his loved ones. The more time that passed, the more certain the detective was that death was near.

"So we kill them. That's not going to fool anyone for long," Tony argued.

Jake shook his head. "It doesn't have to. We just have to buy ourselves time. We blow the cabin, leave three bodies behind in the rubble and a few bills from the robbery to convince the cops that our escape backfired. By the time they figure out what happened, we'll be in Brazil."

"What about the cop?"

"He's hurt and stuck out here. We disabled the ranger's vehicle. He can't go far on foot. If we find him before we're out of here, we take care of him. Even if he makes it out alive, what can he tell them? If he's already dead. . .well, then he's no problem is he?

"He can describe us?" Chet complained.

"So what?" Jake countered. "As far as he'll know, we'll be the three bodies charred beyond recognition found in this cabin."

Paul watched the exchange between the men. Time was running short. He tested his bonds by attempting to pull his left hand free of the rope. It was close, but unsuccessful. He again twisted his wrists in opposite directions.

"Stretch and loosen," the Shaolin whispered. Paul narrowed his eyes at the man, questioning the words. Caine shrugged, "A lesson I taught Peter as a child."

"He listened to you?" Paul responded in an amazed hush, humor filling the words despite the seriousness of the situation.

"Yes," he answered simply, then paused, a smile coming to his lips. Sometimes," he finally corrected. In that instant, Paul saw Peter in Caine. There were times when Paul thought that the differences between father and son, both physical and mental, were so great that one could not help but question that the two men were related. However, he had seen the same impish grin on the face of the boy he had taken in as a teen and watched grow into a man, alleviating all doubt.

Paul returned the smile and nodded, as he continued to stretch and loosen the ropes.

Peter had to consciously suppress his excitement at finding the cabin. Although there was no movement around the perimeter, instinctively he could feel his father, Paul and his friends were inside.

The blood drops he had been following veered off the main trail and behind a stand of trees. Peter followed their path, wondering why the main trail had not been used. Then it dawned on him. The gunmen must have sabotaged it.

Peter kneeled in the bushes next to the trail and examined the ground. It took only a few seconds for him to find the two trip wires which were tied between trees. Following them with his eyes, he soon found the explosives that had been set to detonate if the wires were pulled.

Peter avoided the traps and continued to make his way around the cabin, sticking to the forest for cover. He had to figure out exactly where his loved ones were and how many men were holding them captive. To do that, he had to find a way to approach the cabin without being seen. Finally, he found what was looking for. There were no windows on the west side of the cabin. This would allow him to approach the building undetected.

Within seconds, he had moved against the wooden wall, his back pressed against the rough texture. Moving to the rear of the cabin, he found a window which would allow him to see inside.

He squatted down below the window to catch his breath. His left hand drifted to the wound on his side and squeezed, trying to dampen the pain from the raw, irritated nerves. With the back of his free hand he wiped the sweat from his brow. He closed his eyes, gathering the nerve to take the gamble of glancing in the window. The risk was enormous. He had to know where the captors and the hostages were, but that one glance in the window could instantly reveal his position and destroy any chance that he would have to help.

After what seemed like hours of crouching below the window, Peter removed Paul's gun from his waistband, slid the next bullet into firing position, took several quick breaths and slowly pushed himself up, inching his way to the glass.

End Part 27

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