Guardian Angels, Part 4

Kwai Chang Caine had finished mopping the floor in the nursing home cafeteria. It was early in the morning, almost 4:30, and he was ready to meditate and go to sleep. The nursing home was located three hundred miles north of the city where he had left his son two months earlier. Caine had found the care facility in his quest for inner peace two weeks ago.

Caine looked forward to his meditation time each night. It was the only opportunity he had to be in contact with Peter's essence. Caine's daily contact was well guarded from his son; a brief touch with his mental and emotional state to confirm that he was safe, nothing more. Caine did not want Peter to be aware of the contact for fear he would resent such an intrusion. He also feared that if Peter felt the contact he would attempt to find his father. Caine wasn't ready to face Peter; he still needed this time alone to rethink the past fifteen years of his life.

Upon completing his service as bo jaia for the Emperor Sing Ling, Caine realized he had broken the sacred vows of the Shaolin. At some point in his wanderings he allowed pride to control his life. He no longer lived to serve his fellow man, humbled to all, but instead lived to clear his family name. The pride had controlled and dictated his life, even to the point of being willing to sacrifice the life of his only son. What was worse was that Caine was so consumed with his search for the Caine line's redemption that he had not realized that Peter was willingly prepared to sacrifice his own life to give honor back to his father. Caine's failure to identify the error of his ways had scared him. He had lost the Tao. To find it once again, he would have to leave the life he had found to regain what he had lost.

Peter said he understood why Caine had to leave, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes of the pain he was feeling. It took all of the will power Caine could muster to look into his son's eyes and still walk away. Caine knew he had to be strong and definitive, but as soon as he had turned his back on his son, the tears flowed. He wanted, more than anything, to turn back to Peter, gather him in his arms and hold him as he had done when Peter was a child. But neither Caine nor Peter could go back to that time, they could only move forward. And for Caine to move forward, he had to find his path again.

Caine put the mop and bucket away in a storage closet and returned to the small room that had been provided for him. It was not much bigger than a closet, with a cot, a small desk and wood-backed chair, but that was all he needed. He settled himself on the floor and lit two candles.

His time away had been productive. He found that he could now easily slip into meditation, where in the past few months it had been much more difficult to concentrate. Within minutes of closing his eyes he was prepared to check on Peter. He searched his inner-being, reached out to find his son's chi, and suddenly felt pain and fear. The sudden shock of the negative feelings jerked him out of meditation, eyes wide open. He was certain that the essence he had touched was Peter. He attempted to try the contact again, but this time, felt nothing; there was no sense of the pain or fear...or of his son's chi. This revelation scared him more than the initial emotions he had tapped into.

Closing his eyes a third time, Kwai Chang Caine reached out in desperation for his son. Still nothing. For the first time in the two months of their separation, his son was not there, as if he had been plucked from the face of the earth. Caine's mind spun backwards through time, to the destruction of the temple and the fifteen years of lonely wandering. He couldn't fight the fear gripping his stomach. Suddenly, a thought entered his mind. "Kwai Chang Caine, I must speak with you."

Caine easily recognized the new thought as Lo Si's. During his absence he had often communicated with Lo Si, via meditation. He found Lo Si's experience and insight to be invaluable on the path to peace. But tonight there was something very different about Lo Si's contact. It was not one of peace, but instead one of worry. He knew instinctively, that it concerned Peter.

"What has happened to my son," he asked the ancient one.

"He has been taken. I do not know where he is, only that he is in danger."

"I believe he is hurt. I felt his pain briefly, but I can not find him now."

"I too have felt his pain. You must help him Kwai Chang Caine."

"Yes." Caine's thoughts paused for a moment, "Master, will you help me find my son?"

"Of course. Together, we will find him and bring him to safety."

"I will come to you and we will find him together."

"No, Kwai Chang Caine. There is no time for you to come here. You must stay where you are and be a link between me and your son. Only you can see through his eyes, find his essence. My link to him is too weak on its own. Please, remain ready. I will contact you." As suddenly as Lo Si had entered Caine's mind, he left it. Caine's fear for his son's life became overwhelming. He climbed to his feet, gathered his herbal bag, intending to disobey his elder's orders. He made it all the way to the front entrance of the nursing home and then stopped. He attempted to find Peter's chi, but felt nothing. He leaned against the door frame for a moment and closed his eyes. Lo Si's voice entered his head once again.

"Please, Kwai Chang Caine. Do not attempt to come. I can now feel Peter's chi, but it is weak. It is not strong enough for me to track. Peter needs you, not in body, but in spirit. Concentrate, and you will know that what I say is the truth." Caine concentrated harder and suddenly felt his mind brush against his son's. He opened his eyes and realized that what the Master said was true. If he tried to physically travel to help his son, he would be unable to concentrate on Peter's presence. He could best help by providing the link from Lo Si to him. Without the link, the chain would be broken, and Peter would die.

Caine took a deep breath and returned to his quarters. He lit the candles again and settled onto the floor, resolving to remain in mediation until his son was safe.

Kermit and Paul returned to the Emperor's apartment. Paul was determined to make sure Kermit stayed hidden from Nabours. Kermit had not said another word to Paul since the argument at the Ancient's. Paul could tell that Kermit was furious at himself for bringing his problems to Paul. The young mercenary had never been one to sacrifice others for his own well-being or to run away from a confrontation. Paul knew that Kermit was blaming himself for Peter's abduction and that concealing himself in the safe house instead of confronting Nabours and his men went against every instinct.

Paul escorted Kermit inside. Kermit removed his coat and threw it in the corner; the sunglasses followed. Concerned, Paul gripped Kermit's shoulder, but the hand was angrily shoved away. "Paul, I'm not staying here...I can't stay here."

"You will stay put," Paul responded definitively.

"I'm not going to let Nabours use Peter as a pawn."

Paul's voice raised, "Peter is already a pawn, at least until Nabours makes contact and we knew what he wants." As if on cue, Paul's cellular phone rang. Paul looked at Kermit, a worried expression entering his eyes. He pushed the receive button and gruffly answered, "Blaisdell."

"Listen carefully, this will be said only once. Kermit Griffin is to walk into the Federal Building alone at 8:00 a.m. this morning and confess to the murder of Douglas Fairchild. He will plead guilty to murder in the first degree. Forty-eight hours after his confession, Peter Caine will be returned to you. If Mr. Griffin does not confess at the appointed time, your son will be executed. If Mr. Griffin attempts to recant his confession, your son will be executed." Before Paul could ask any questions, the line was disconnected.

Kermit, seeing the concern in Paul's eyes, knew that Nabours' men were on the line. He approached his friend and strained to hear the words coming from the caller, but he could hear nothing. Without ever saying a word to the caller, Blaisdell hung up.

"What did they say?" Kermit asked his friend impatiently. Paul didn't answer. "Damn it, Paul, what did they say?"

Paul turned away and remained quiet for a moment. Kermit circled around to face him. He grabbed his mentor by the shoulders and shook him slightly. "Tell me what they want," anger now filled his being.

Paul looked into his friend's eyes, resolving to tell him the truth. "They want you to confess to the murder of Douglas Fairchild. You're to turn yourself into the Feds at 8:00 this morning." His voice became quieter, "If you don't, they'll kill Peter."

Kermit couldn't help the look of surprise on his face. He hadn't expected that demand. He figured upon an exchange, Peter for him. Confessing to a crime he didn't commit was definitely a new twist to the kidnap/extortion plot. "Okay...I can do that," Kermit resolved.

"No, Kermit. I'm not going to let you."

"You don't have a choice. You know they'll kill Peter if I don't do as they say."

It was Paul's turn to grab Kermit's arm, "They're going to kill Peter no matter what you do. You know that as well as I do. We've been in this business too long to think they are going to keep their promise and set him free."

Kermit's voice dropped to a whisper. "We don't know that for sure."

"Oh come on, Kermit, don't play dumb. They would be idiots to keep Peter alive. They'll make sure he's alive until you turn yourself in. They may even keep him alive long enough to make sure you plead guilty in court. But then he's dead. They can't let him live."

Kermit, frustrated, attempted to argue the point. "They don't have to kill him. There is nothing to tie Peter's kidnapping to me. You have no evidence that what happened to him had anything to do with Fairchild's murder. Even if you say something to the Feds, there's no evidence to convict Nabours for any of this..."

"Except you," Paul cut his friend off. "Kermit, you are the only one who knows that Nabours wanted Fairchild dead and why. Don't you think it's a little odd that they are going to let you waltz into the Federal Building and tell them everything you know? They have someone on the inside who is going to make sure you have done exactly what they want, confessed to the murder, and then I'll bet my life that you are going to turn up dead in your cell within 24 hours.... Just another suicide. Then they'll kill Peter. There will be no reason to let him go."

"But you could tell the Feds what happened," Kermit pressed, but down deep inside he already knew the flaw in his reasoning.

"I'm a dead man. They'll kill me...and frame you for that murder, too."

Kermit's face was crestfallen. In all the years Paul had worked with Kermit, he had never seen such a look of defeat in the man's eyes. Kermit turned away, shoulder's slumped. Paul, no longer saw the brave, deadly mercenary, but instead, saw a frightened young man. Paul knew that Kermit's fear was not for himself, but for his friend and his friend's son. Paul turned his protégé towards him and could see tears glistening in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Paul. I'm so sorry," was all Kermit could say.

Paul brought his friend into a protective embrace. He expected Kermit to push him away, avoid the human contact, but instead, Kermit didn't fight him. Paul could not help but let his mind drift to Peter. He closed his eyes and prayed for this night to be over and his son to be returned to him safe and sound.

Skalaney looked at the clock. It was almost 5:00 in the morning and still there had been no sign of Peter or his abductors. No one had seen Paul since earlier that night when they had left the scene of the kidnapping. Not even Strenlich seemed to know where the Captain had gone.

As soon as she had left the scene of the accident, she had gone to the home of the owners of the Park Avenue. They had been of no help. The car had been stolen from a mall parking lot earlier that day. Returning to the station, she read the officer's report of the theft and found that there had been no witnesses to the crime.

Police cruisers were searching the warehouse district and waterfront looking for some sign of the Park Avenue. Nothing had been found. Officers were preparing for a building to building search, but Skalaney held little hope that it would be productive. There were just too many places to hide. Additionally, there was no evidence that the Park Avenue was still in the area. It could have eluded the black and whites patrolling the area and been out of the state by now.

She now sat at her desk, lost, not knowing what to do next to help find her partner. She rested her head in her hands and closed her eyes. God, she was tired. Suddenly, she felt a presence hovering over her. Looking up, she was startled to see the Ancient. "Oh, Lo Si! What are you doing here this time of the night...I mean morning?" The old man said nothing, but instead stared at her, hands clasped in front of him. Suddenly worried, Skalaney stood, "Is it Peter?"

"I need your assistance to find young Peter."

"Do you know where he is?"

"I think it is possible that I can find him. Will you assist me?"

Skalaney had already grabbed her jacket and reholstered her gun. "You bet. Lead the way."

The old man, despite his years, hurried out the precinct door, Mary Margaret following close behind.

Peter's eyes drifted open. Pain filled his being. It took him a moment to focus on his surroundings, however as his eyes cleared he recognized the plain ceiling above him. He tried to lift himself up from the cot, but found that he had been returned to the spread-eagle position, wrists and ankles again cuffed to the corner posts of the bed.

His right side was inflamed, as were his back and head. Breathing was difficult and he suspected that what used to be a bruised rib was now broken, the results of the kick to the back. His hair was plastered to the side of his face. Peter concluded, without being able to touch the wet stickiness, that it was blood from his head wound.

He lifted his head, and immediately regretted the movement. His stomach lurched and he had to swallow back the sickness which gathered at the base of his esophagus. A chill swept threw his body and Peter couldn't fight the tremor which was building from within. He wished that a blanket had been provided, but there was nothing to help keep him warm.

He listened for any sound of movement outside the room, but there was nothing. He closed his eyes and tried to think of a way out of his current predicament. If he were his father he would probably be able to meditate his way out of the handcuffs. But he wasn't his father. In fact, he was a far cry from being his father. Peter's mind started to fill with regrets about his father's absence, but this time he fought them off. "There's no time for that now, Caine."

Suddenly, the door to the room opened. Peter, once again, was blinded by the bright light shining in his eyes from the exterior. Two men entered. Peter recognized one of the men from the earlier attack, but the second was a stranger. The smell of damp, musty air entered the room.

"Detective Caine, we're glad to see you're awake. You realize that trying to fight my men was not a very intelligent move on your part," the unknown man said as he crossed the room to stand over Peter.

Peter said nothing, but looked defiantly into the eyes of his captor. Seeing his face clearly, now, Peter thought he was strangely familiar, but he could not place where he had seen him before.

"So, you are going to play the strong, silent type. Well, that's fine. There is nothing we need from you...," the man paused for a moment, an evil grin crossing his face, "other than you."

Peter couldn't fight the urge to speak, "Why am I here?" His voice sounded much weaker than he would have preferred.

"You are strictly insurance, nothing more."

"Insurance for what?"

"I guess we could refer to you as a 'performance bond'. You are strictly here to make sure that Kermit Griffin carries through with a task that we have assigned him. Once he has performed, we will not need you." The man looked at his watch and then turned to his accomplice. "It's 5:30. Make the call."

Kermit, usually very calm, was pacing the room like a caged tiger. He was ready to act. Paul felt the same way, but fought the urge to do anything rash at this point. Paul had friends in high places who owed him favors and he was prepared to call in all markers now. However, he wanted to buy the search parties time to find Peter. He did not want to advertise the fact that he was hiding a suspected murderer.

Paul was convinced that if Kermit turned himself in to the authorities, he would be dead within 24 hours. Of course, he was equally certain that Peter would be dead at 8:01 this morning if Kermit didn't confess. After discussing their options, the two men had decided that Kermit would enter the Federal Building at 7:59 and at 8:00 confess to the crime. Paul would call in his markers to have one of his officers placed as a guard on Kermit at all times. That would, hopefully, prevent an untimely "suicide". In the meantime, Paul would have his contacts search for hard evidence of the truth.

It was a weak plan, at best, but frankly, neither man knew what else to do. They needed to buy time to find Peter. At this point, with only a couple of hours to go until 8:00, they had no leads.

Kermit didn't like the idea of having a guard placed on him, it was putting another life at risk, but knew that Paul would not let him walk in and confess to the crime without protection. Paul pulled out his phone and called to the 101st.

Broderick answered the phone, "101st Precinct."

"Sargent, its Blaisdell."

"Yes, Captain," the man's gruff voice became crisply professional.

"Any word on Detective Caine?"

"No sir. Nothing has been turned up by either the cruisers or the search parties."

"Any sign of the Park Avenue?"

"No sir. Units are concentrating their search on the area where the car disappeared, but haven't found anything. There's a state wide APB out on both the car and Peter."

"I need to talk to Frank," Paul said without further comment.

"Yes sir," Broderick put him on hold.

Quickly, the phone was answered by the Chief. "Paul, where are you?"

"Never mind, Frank. I need your help...It's personal."

"Anything."

"Before you agree to this you may want to hear what it involves."

"Paul, you know that doesn't matter."

"It's dangerous."

"Yeah, and police work isn't?"

Paul chuckled, despite the seriousness of the situation. "Okay, I need you to come to the apartment where Emperor Sing Ling was kept. You know the one where we made the arrest of Cheryl Hynes...the girl who tried to kill him."

"Is that where you're at?"

"Just come to the apartment, Frank. And make sure no one is following you, okay."

"You got it. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Paul disconnected the phone. Before he could put it away, it rang again. "Blaisdell."

"Just a reminder call. In two and a half hours, Kermit Griffin is walking into the Federal Building and the case of who killed Douglas Fairchild will become a closed file, right?"

This caller's voice was different from the last man that had called. Paul ignored the question. "I want to talk to my son."

"You have ten seconds."

Paul could suddenly hear a heavier, strained breathing over the line. "Peter?"

"Paul?"

"I'm hear, Son. Tell me where you are?"

"Near water, I think." The phone was suddenly jerked away.

"Time's up." The man's voice came over the line. The call was immediately disconnected.

Paul held the phone for a moment, willing Peter's voice to return. It didn't. At least his son was alive, he took comfort in that thought. Kermit approached the older man, eyes filled with concern.

"You spoke with him?"

"Yeah, he thinks he's near water." Paul dialed back to the Precinct. Broderick answered the phone again.

"Sargent, I need to talk to Skalaney."

There was silence for a moment. "I'm sorry, Sir, but I don't see her. Do you want me to raise her on her radio?"

"No, I'll do it. Thanks."

Paul disconnected and then dialed through to police dispatch. "This is Captain Paul Blaisdell, I need to be connected with Detective Skalaney's unit."

"Yes sir," the dispatch operator answered obediently.

A few seconds later, Mary Margaret's voice came over the line. "Captain?"

"Detective, where are you?"

"We're on the interstate right now, heading to the waterfront warehouses."

"Who's 'we'?"

"I have Lo Si with me. He says he thinks he can find Peter."

"What? He told me that he didn't have a strong enough link to find him," Paul was suddenly furious that the Ancient had lied to him.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Captain, but we went to the scene of the accident and Lo Si was able to pick up, uh..., vibes from Peter. He told me to head to the waterfront warehouses, so that's where we're going."

Paul pushed aside his anger and frustration and instead focused on the rescue of his son. "Okay, fine. I just heard from Peter. He thinks he's being held somewhere near the water. Based on everything else that's gone on tonight, I think Lo Si is on the right track. He might be in one of the waterfront warehouses. I know it's a long shot, but it's all we've got right now. Let me know what you find."

"Will do, Captain."

End Part 4

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