PART THREE, SCENE TWELVE

Jake slid down to the floor on the back seat of Skalany's car. "What are you doing?" the detective asked, curious.

"Lady," Jake answered, his voice impatient. "People were shooting at me a couple hours ago. I don't want anybody to see me."

"Uh-huh," Skalany nodded, watching the boy in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes met the Ancient's as Lo Si opened the door behind her and sat down near the boy. "I really don't think that anyone knows you're there...but if it makes you feel better to sit on the floor, that's fine with me." Stepping on the gas, she pulled the car from the curb and into traffic.

Lo Si smiled down at the figure on the floor. "There is no one watching," he assured the boy. "You may sit on the seat."

Reluctantly, Jake looked up. "You're sure?"

"I am sure."

Jake peered anxiously out all the windows before slumping against the seat back. "Guess I look pretty stupid, huh?" he asked the elderly man beside him. "It wouldn't be the first time," he said, his mouth twisting in a grimace that was meant to be a smile.

"You do not look...stupid," Lo Si said, placing a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. Jake flinched, then relaxed into the touch.

The car ride seemed to take a long time. Jake was yawning and trying to keep his eyes open when they drove up to a large house in a very nice neighborhood. Without hesitation, Mary Margaret pulled the car into the open garage bay. The boy waited until the garage door had closed behind the car before opening his door to get out.

Standing at the top of a short flight of steps was a tall man. Jake stopped, half asleep already, hanging back to assess the man as the adults greeted him.

Skalany led the way up the steps. "Cap--Paul!" she said, grinning when he put one arm around her shoulders in a quick embrace. "Peter said you were ready for some excitement, so I brought you a couple refugees from Chinatown."

The man lifted one bushy eyebrow. "Excitement? He asked if I could put up a friend for the night. Of course, when has anything that Peter is involved in been that straightforward?" he added dryly. He turned to the elderly priest now mounting the steps. "Lo Si." Jake didn't understand the sudden guarded tone in the tall man's voice. The Ancient obviously did.

"Paul Blaisdell," he said, bowing slightly. "It is a...pleasure to see you again."

"Hmmm...Likewise," Peter's foster father said, his tone polite. He looked past Lo Si to the boy behind him. "You must be Jake," he said kindly.

"Yeah," Jake answered, shifting awkwardly. Paul held out one hand; not sure what to do, Jake put his own hand out. Warmth and strength closed around him momentarily, then the man let his hand go and motioned him to follow the others. They entered a warm and fragrant kitchen. Fresh brownies were cooling on a rack on the counter. Even though minutes ago, he had been ready to fall asleep, Jake's mouth started watering at the enticing aroma.

"Peter said you would remind me of him," Paul said, the laughter in his voice reflected in his eyes. "Brownies were his favorite as a kid...help yourself. There's milk in the refrigerator."

"Where's Annie?" Skalany asked, as Jake closed his eyes to enjoy the first rich bite. Spotting a clean glass on the counter, he carried it over to the refrigerator.

"She and Kelly went to visit Carolyn for the evening," Paul answered. "Both Carolyn and the baby came down with a cold, so my two Florence Nightingale's went over to take care of them." He lowered his voice; "I told them to stay overnight, until all of this was settled. Did anyone follow you?"

"I didn't see anyone," Mary Margaret said, her own voice not much louder than a whisper, "and I was watching. I don't think so. Lo Si?"

"I did not sense anyone following us here. Nor do I feel that we are under observation now."

Paul folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. "Good. Peter and Kermit called just before you got here. They think they know who the man in the sketch is. While they're waiting for a warrant, they're going back to talk to John and do some research."

"Isn't it a little late?" Skalany asked, glancing at the clock.

Paul chuckled. "Obviously, you have never seen John Durham in action. The man never rests until he solves the problem. Peter and Kermit should have an answer by morning.

"And speaking of morning..." he said, raising his voice. "Jake--it's pretty late. I've put you in Peter's old bedroom. Are you ready for bed?"

Jake jumped, startled out of a half-doze at being addressed, and knocked over the glass of milk, which crashed to the floor. It shattered into pieces, milk splattering on the floor and furniture. The boy froze, staring in horror at the glass, then his gaze moved up to the adults. "I-I-I'm s-sorry," he stammered, his face pale. "I...I'll pick it up." He backed with jerky steps toward the paper towel rack near the sink, his eyes darting between the adults.

Paul's lips tightened as he observed the boy's reaction. "Jake, it's all right," he said gently. "It's only a glass. I'll clean it up."

"B-but..."

"Mary Margaret will show you up to Peter's room," Paul continued, in the same calm voice. He walked across the room to stand beside the boy. Slowly, he reached out and rested a warm hand on Jake's shoulder. Giving it a little shake, he grinned. "You look tired. Don't worry about this...we've had more than our share of spills and broken glasses in this house. Peter was especially clumsy for a couple years. I'm used to cleaning up messes."

"Yeah?" Jake asked, his wary pose relaxing slightly.

"Yeah," Paul grinned. He moved the hand to tousle the boy's hair. "You look like you're about ready to go to sleep on right where you're standing. Why don't you follow Mary Margaret, and I'll see you in the morning. If you need anything during the night, just yell. I'll hear you."

"You're sure?" There was nothing left of the tough guy from the car, Skalany thought, watching as her former Captain soothed the frightened child. She wondered suddenly what Peter had been like when he came to live in this home.

"Positive," the deep voice rumbled. "There's a toothbrush on the bathroom counter for you-the blue towels are yours. I also put out some pajamas on the bed, and clothes for tomorrow on the chair. Do you need anything else?"

Jake shook his head silently, overwhelmed at the show of generosity. Mary Margaret smiled at him, "This way," she said cheerfully. "I'll help you get settled." The men could hear their progress as she led the boy through the house, chattering along the way.

When they could no longer be heard, Paul stalked to the sink. With a dishrag, he wiped up most of the milk, and picked up the larger pieces of the glass. Lo Si watched silently as he threw out the pieces and got a broom. It only took a few minutes to finish cleaning the mess. His movements were controlled, but the older man could feel the anger coming off him in waves.

"Damn," Paul finally said, sounding weary. He turned around to look at the Shaolin standing quietly in the corner. "Are you planning on staying awake all night, or can I make up a bed for you in the den?"

"I will remain awake." Thoughtfully, the Ancient studied the man standing before him. "Jake told me something of his...history this evening."

"Really." Paul's comment was flat. It did not encourage further discussion.

"Yes. You recognized the fear in him with very little to go on. As if you've dealt with it before..."

Paul looked down at the priest. "Lo Si, if you want information, ask me. Don't beat around the bush."

Drawing his dignity around him, the Ancient nodded. "Very well. Was Peter like Jake when you first met him? Had he been...hurt before he came to you?"

Paul's blue eyes grew flinty. "You mean, in addition to the hurt you caused by deserting a kid in a situation with which he was totally unfamiliar?"

The Ancient winced. "Yes, after that," he acquiesced.

"Yes," Paul said bluntly. He stared at the lowered head. "When Peter first came here, he was just like Jake; jumpy, apologetic, expecting the worse. It took a long time for Annie and me to get past his barriers. A few times, I wasn't sure we could do it." A wry smile tugged up one corner of his mouth. "Annie knew we could though...she wouldn't let me or Peter become discouraged."

"What had happened to him?"

Paul shook his head. "Only Peter knows the whole story, and he's not talking. Before we took him, they showed me his file... However," his voice hardened, "I promised that I wouldn't share that with anyone, you and his father included. If you want to know what happened, you'll have to ask Peter."

"Peter will not tell me."

"Then perhaps you should let it go." Paul's voice softened as he saw the anguish in the elderly man's face. "Peter had a bad time, but he's made it past that. Maybe you need to admit that you made a mistake, and go on."

"I did not know. I thought it would be for the best."

"You were wrong."

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PART THREE, SCENE THIRTEEN

John called them on the cellular just as they were pulling up in front of the bank. "I think I've figured it out," he said, his clipped tones animated. "Where are you?"

"Almost at your door," Kermit answered.

The banker was waiting for them when they reached the building. "What did you discover from Jennie?" he asked, ushering them back into his office.

"The name of the guy in the sketch is Jimmy Curtis," Kermit said, satisfaction apparent in his voice, "Jennie says he's a customer at Blair's branch, and from what she said, they had more than a work-related acquaintance. You?"

John raised one eyebrow. "Robert was definitely laundering money."

Peter leaned forward in his chair. "How can you tell?"

"It wasn't difficult," the older man stated, "I designed the bank's computer system. Although I have every confidence in my people, I thought it...advisable to build a few extra security steps into it." Kermit snorted; John grinned at his reaction. "Of course, I have a password that enables me to check into what's going on... Once I knew to look, the signs were unmistakable." He tapped a pile of printouts on his desk. "Robert hid it well, but the pattern was there."

"So can you give us names of the accounts involved?" Peter asked. He leafed through the printout, whistling at the amounts of money involved.

"Give me about an hour, and I can give you any information necessary."

Kermit checked his watch. "Can you give us enough to connect Jimmy Curtis to Robert Blair right now? I'd like to pick him up, and I'd like to have more to put on the warrant than Jake's sketch and Jennie's story. I'd rather not put either of them on the spot like that."

Bending over his computer keyboard, John typed in a few commands. Peter watched him, thinking how much the banker looked like a certain detective when he was absorbed in his work. He looked over at Kermit, and the ex-mercenary grinned at him. "Who do you think gave me my first modem?" he asked, reading the younger man's mind.

The printer came to life as John punched in one last command. "Here you are, proof that Robert was involved with Curtis." He handed the resulting papers to Kermit.

"John, thank you for all your help," the young Shaolin said. "You've saved a kid's life."

"Happy to oblige," John answered. "Come back tomorrow...later today," he amended, "and I'll have the rest of the information for you." He nodded to Kermit, words not needed between them.

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PART THREE, SCENE FOURTEEN

Kermit slammed the door as he got into the unmarked car.

"You've got the warrant?" Peter asked, the familiar feeling of adrenaline pumping through his body.

"Yup." The older detective tapped the paper tucked into his inner pocket and frowned. "Simms is sending two uniforms to meet us at the address."

"Why? We can handle it," the young Shaolin protested, with a quick glance at his partner.

Behind the dark glasses, Kermit's face was carefully blank. "Pete, you're a civilian now. You can't be part of the arrest."

"What?"

"You're a civilian," Kermit repeated. "Not a cop. The uniforms are there to go in with me. The Captain said you can go along for backup. You have to stay in the car though." Seeing that Peter was speechless, the detective started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "At least you're going," he pointed out. "And believe me, that took some quick talking."

"Great. Backup." Peter said, staring out the window.

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PART THREE, SCENE FIFTEEN

Jimmy Curtis lived on the edge of Chinatown, in a rundown apartment building. A cruiser was already parked outside the front entrance. Kermit pulled up behind it.

"Can't I just..."

Kermit sighed. "Backup, remember? Do you have a gun with you?"

Peter shook his head. "I've gotten out of the habit," he said with a rueful grin. With a scowl, Kermit reached over him and unlocked the glove box. Reaching in, he pulled out a .38 special and handed it to his friend.

"Take it. There's an extra clip in there too." He watched as Peter checked to see that the gun was loaded.

The weapon felt strange in his hand, comforting yet...unsettling. Peter tucked it into the front of his jeans. "I'll just wait here," he said, not looking at the other man.

"You do that." Kermit got out of the car and walked up to the cruiser. The two officers were already out, waiting impatiently.

"I'm Brady, that's Canfield. Is this guy liable to bolt?" the taller one demanded.

"Griffin. Don't know. Let's go see, shall we?" Kermit looked at the address and the layout of the building. "There should be a fire escape from the apartment. Brady, you wait out here. You can watch the outside of the building." He handed the officer a picture of Jimmy Curtis. "Watch for him. Come on." Motioning to Canfield, they took the stairs to Curtis's apartment on the third floor, guns drawn.

Kermit knocked on the door sharply. "Jimmy Curtis?" There was a rustling noise inside the apartment, but no one came to the door.

"He's not going to come out," Canfield growled.

"Jimmy Curtis, open the door, this is the police. We have a warrant for your arrest." Kermit cursed as the unmistakable sound of a window being opened came to his ears. "Don't make it worse!" he shouted.

"I can open the door." After an approving nod from the detective, Canfield kicked the door beside the lock. It flew open.

Inside the apartment, curtains were fluttering in the wind from the open window.

Canfield covered Kermit as he made a quick check of the empty apartment. Reaching the window, he looked outside. Curtis was climbing down the stairs. "Freeze!" Kermit shouted, "Police!"

Curtis didn't even look up, concentrating on fleeing. Kermit realized that a shot would ricochet off the iron stairs. "Cover me!" he ordered. Hearing Canfield grunt in agreement, he threw one leg over the windowsill and jumped out. Rapidly, he followed Curtis down the stairs.

Brady was waiting at the bottom. "Freeze!" the uniformed cop shouted. He cried out in pain as Curtis jumped over the railing and landed on him, knocking the officer to the ground.

"Damn!" Kermit swore, seeing his suspect fleeing into the darkness. He reached the ground and ran, following.

A new figure appeared at the end of the alley, standing there, waiting. "Stop," the man uttered, the voice calm and even. Curtis didn't even pause.

Kermit almost missed Peter's move, the raised hand that he remembered seeing Caine use to put out candles. Peter...pushed...and Curtis stopped as if he'd run into an invisible brick wall. Peter and Kermit reached the fallen criminal at the same time.

With a grin, Peter dangled a set of handcuffs from one finger. "Thanks," the detective growled, grabbing them. Pulling Curtis's hands behind his back, he cuffed the man. "Read him his rights," he said to Canfield, as the officer came to a halt behind him.

Brady limped up behind his partner. "We'll take him down to the station," he said, looking guilty.

"You do that," Kermit said, glaring. He turned to Peter. "I thought I told you to wait in the car."

Peter shrugged. "I don't follow orders very well. Besides, something told me you needed me."

"Shaolin senses?"

Peter grinned. "Nah, I heard you yelling."

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