Unfounded Fears

Part 3

Paul peeked around the trash dumpster, watching the unknown man search the van. Kermit began to move forward, deciding that a quick and efficient 'interrogation' of the intruder would lead them to Peter's location. Paul grabbed his arm, holding him firmly in place. Kermit gave his friend a questioning look. Paul shook his head, he pointed to his eyes and then to the man.

Kermit understood. Observe only. . .don't interfere. Blake watched the silent exchange between the two men, marveling at their ability to communicate without ever saying a word.

The man left the van and made his way quickly down the alley, leading the three to a warehouse. He entered through a side door, shutting it quickly behind him.

Kermit took up position on the left side of the door, Paul, the right. Kermit reached for the handle and turned it quietly. He gave silent thanks that the door was unlocked and pulled it open. Paul entered, followed by the younger man. Kermit's experience as a mercenary gave him the ability to move forward without making a sound. Paul's training gave him the same skills, but silent movement came naturally. Blake, on the other hand, had neither the mercenary training nor the natural ability to move quietly. His nerves were starting to get the best of him, so he opted to wait for the other two officers outside the warehouse.

As soon as the door shut quietly behind them, the sound of a man's voice echoed through the facility. "Tie him up. Put him in the backseat. We'll take him with us. If we aren't followed, we'll dump him in the river."

Paul had to fight the overwhelming urge to rush forward, knowing his son was in extreme danger. Kermit was prepared to hold his captain back, but saw that the older man was able to refrain from losing control.

Moving forward, Paul stole a quick peek around a large crate. On the opposite side of the warehouse, over a hundred feet away, a scene was unfolding that almost made his heart stop.

Peter was lying on the floor between four men. He was writhing in pain. The man standing near Peter's head removed his belt and forced Peter's arms behind him. Del Barton, the man whom Peter was trying to take down with this failed operation, stood above Peter, a crow bar in one hand, gun in the other. His companion similarly held a gun which was aimed at the helpless cop.

Peter groaned in pain. He tried to struggle against the binding which had been tightly wrapped around his arms, but the leather belt held his wrists firmly. The other thug who had previously restrained Peter matched the actions of the first and used his belt to tie Peter's legs.

This time Kermit had to stop himself from rushing forward to help his friend. Peter was at too great a risk for Paul and Kermit to try to take the men by surprise.

The two cops watched as Barton opened the backdoor of the Mercedes and the thugs unceremoniously dumped the cop inside. The door was closed. Now, Peter was separated from his captors. Paul and Kermit could move.

"Police, freeze!" Paul yelled. "Drop your guns. . .Hands in the air."

The four men turned in unison, each bringing a weapon up and firing blindly in the direction of the voice.

Paul and Kermit ducked behind the crate and returned fire. Kermit's scoped weapon quickly lined up on a target and within seconds, only three men were standing. Paul was able to set his sights on the man who had tied Peter's hands He fired, knowing without looking that he had not missed. Del Barton and the man who had searched the outside of the building were the only two on their feet. Barton's cohort dove for the table, pulling it down on its side, providing him with protection.

Barton, on the other hand, had determined there was only one way to leave the warehouse alive. He opened the driver's side door of the Mercedes and dove in. Within seconds, he had the motor started and had gunned the engine.

Paul looked at the only avenue of escape for the car. It would have to leave through the bay doors of the warehouse. . .and they were closed. Relief swept through the captain.

The sound of metal rubbing against metal caught Paul's attention. He turned to see the large metal doors slowly sliding open. Paul's stomach sank, the Mercedes had a remote opener.

"We have to stop the car," he yelled. Kermit glanced at the direction of the car's escape and agreed with his friend's conclusion, but there was another armed gunman to consider.

Taking aim at the table, Kermit fired his Desert Eagle rapidly, aiming one bullet then another into the same spot of the table. It only took two bullets to send the third through the wood of the tabletop like a hot knife slicing through butter. The man behind the table stood suddenly, then stared down at the gapping hole in his chest. In seconds he collapsed lifelessly on to the floor.

Paul came out of hiding, dead set on stopping the Mercedes which was making its escape towards the large loading bay doors. He fired at the tires of the vehicle, but missed. The car continued on its path out of the warehouse.

"He has Peter!" Paul cried. The sound of a bullet echoed from the alleyway. Paul and Kermit raced through the open doors to find Blake with his weapon drawn.

"I missed," Blake muttered.

Kermit and Paul fired at the car, but it had raced out of their range. "Peter!" Paul yelled, knowing that he had just lost his son.

"Let's get to the van!" Kermit yelled, and began to run down the alley. Blake's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Wait. . .look!" Blake pointed down the alley, in the direction of the car's escape.

The car was still at the mouth of the alley. At the speed it had been traveling, it should have been long gone. But it wasn't. It was just sitting there.

The taillights of the vehicle, which had been glowing in the darkness of the alley, suddenly went out. "Come on!" Blake yelled, recovering first from the shock. He ran down the alley, keeping his gun drawn. Paul and Kermit followed.

They could vaguely see Del Barton exit the vehicle. The man reached for the handle of the back door of the Mercedes. Before he could make the move to open the door, it flew open, knocking the man off his feet. Peter's body tumbled out of the car, landing near his captor.

Barton scrambled to stand. He pulled out his gun and reached down to take Peter by the collar. Before he could make the motion, he screamed in pain. The gun turned a glowing red. The man dropped it instantly and fell backward against the alley wall, holding his hand, trying to recover from the burn it had received.

"You will not harm my son," were the quiet words which came from the man standing in front of the car.

Peter, from his position on the ground, arms and feet still bound, mumbled, "Pop?"

Footsteps approached the young cop from all directions. He turned his head weakly, and took comfort when he saw the familiar shapes of Paul and Kermit, followed by Blake.

"Hi guys," he said, trying to make his voice strong and assured, but failing miserably.

Kermit had pushed Barton against the wall and had the handcuffs slapped on him in a matter of seconds. He threw the man to the ground, "Stay there," he growled. Barton, defeated, put up no resistance.

Paul dropped to his knees next to his son. Caine kneeled on the opposite side. "My God, Peter. Are you okay?" Paul whispered as he undid the belt which secured his son's arms behind him. Caine set to work freeing his legs.

"Oh. . .yeah. I guess," Peter answered. Then he tried to bring his arms forward and moaned in pain. "On second thought. . ."

Caine held his hands above his son's chest, "He is seriously hurt. He needs a hospital."

Paul nodded in agreement and pulled out his cell phone. Blake's voice stopped him, "Already done, Captain."

End Part 3

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