Deceptions
Part 4
Lo Si entered the red brick building, pausing to take in the chaos and press of bodies around him. People in handcuffs were being led from one place to another. To his right, a man held a crying woman while she clutched a teddy bear in her shaking hands. He walked over to the couple as a uniformed officer gave them a photograph.
"We've posted her picture in every car. We'll do our best to find her," the officer explained.
"You will find your…little girl…safe at home," Lo Si stated. The officer and couple looked at the strange man before them.
The wife slowly nodded as she looked into Lo Si's eyes and felt peace.
"We all hope that, but we will continue to look," the officer quickly added. Lo Si noticed the hopelessness in the officer's features.
Lo Si smiled and bowed, then continued to his original destination, the front desk.
"May I help you?" Sgt. Broderick asked, as he shoved papers onto a clipboard, then signed yet another paper.
"I am here to get a prisoner," Lo Si said slowly, hoping his calming presence would soothe the restless and anxious people around him.
"Yeah? Who?" the desk sergeant asked, continuing to do three other things while barely listening to the elderly Chinese man, not realizing who he was.
"Kwai Chang Caine."
Sgt. Broderick stopped everything he was doing and looked hard at Lo Si, recognition registering. "After what he did to Peter?" "I believe, officer, a man is innocent until proven guilty. Please, I would like to make his bail."
"Yeah, right. Bail is set at $150,000. You have to go through the court clerk for that. For that matter, why they let him have bail, I'll never know."
"He is an important member of the Chinese community," Lo Si answered.
Lo Si handed the man his receipt from the court clerk and watched Broderick's expression. He was not surprised by the desk sergeant's next question.
"You able to post that much?"
"I did, with the help of the community businessmen. Please, I must take Kwai Chang Caine home. He is sick."
"Don't I know it," mumbled the sergeant as he called the jail and informed the guard of Caine's bail being posted. "They'll bring him up in a minute." Broderick's face flushed with anger. A fellow officer had been attacked and lay in the hospital, while the attacker was free to roam the streets. "He's lucky. He was to be transferred to the county lock-up later today. We usually don't keep prisoners after their arraignment." Broderick continued with a smirk, "You realize that if he jumps bail, you and your friends will be out a lot of money."
"What makes you think…he will…jump bail?" Lo Si asked. He didn't want to get into an argument with the officer. He knew that because of the crime with which Caine was charged with, all officers would be prejudiced against Caine.
"I know he escaped last time we had him locked up. I know Peter helped him. I don't know how, but I know he did. That man does strange things, and like his son, if there's something going on, Caine's going to be in it."
"He will not…jump bail. Of this, I am sure," Lo Si said flatly, then turned away. He could feel the anger in Broderick and the officers in the building, and his own anger at what was happening to his friend.
Lo Si and Caine walked back to the meat market in silence. Lo Si sensed Caine's continued confusion.
At Lo Si's apartment, the two men sat on the floor, sharing tea. Various sizes of candles burned, the smell of incense and wax scenting the air and adding a sense of calm.
"Thank you, Master," Caine offered, after taking a sip of tea.
"I have done nothing."
"I…felt…your chi last night, and you have bailed me out of jail." Tears began sliding down Caine's cheeks. "I wish I could see my son."
Lo Si stared at his friend, wishing he could take away Caine's pain and torment. The Shaolin priest was no longer in control of his emotions. Lo Si watched as the tears dropped to Caine's shoulder.
"You have been forbidden to see him, Kwai Chang Caine. He must come to terms with what happened, and you must find the truth."
"The truth? I do not know what the truth is. My memories…are shattered." Caine emphasized his words with a gesture of his hands, the movement suggestive of leaves blowing in the breeze. "They say I tried to kill my son. That is the only truth…I know…right now."
Lo Si grabbed Caine's shoulder. "That, my friend, is not the truth. It is only what others see. Your chi has been poisoned. I have been attempting to make an antidote."
Lo Si stood and went to his many jars filled with dried herbs. Fingering the leaves and smelling the aroma of each herb, he picked those he thought would cure his friend. He then crushed the dried leaves and, placing them in a cloth, allowed them to steep in water he had heated earlier.
The china teapot sat on a metal stand, a candle underneath burning slowly. The teapot had come from China with Lo Si, many years ago. He had hand-painted the design of a garden with a dragon flying over the blossom-laden trees. He gently picked it up, giving it the care it deserved. He had an automatic tea maker, but it did not work as well as his old-fashioned teapot.
Encouraging Kwai Chang Caine to relax his mind and calm his chi, Lo Si gave him the drink. Though Peter had always complained of the awful taste of herbal remedies, Caine drank it down with only a hint of displeasure at the taste.
Lo Si cleared the floor and laid down a pillow. "Now, sleep. Let your mind rest."
"I only need to meditate," Caine protested.
"No, your mind is still too chaotic. Your body and mind need to rest to come together in harmony. We will meditate later."
Kwai Chang Caine gave in, his mind slowly clearing as the herbs evaporated the fog he had been living through.
"My Lady." The bearded man bowed deeply, then kneeled, holding his stance until she deemed it necessary to acknowledge him. He trembled with excitement; he was the bearer of good news for his love.
A page stood beside the object of the man's devotion, ready to retrieve the laptop computer she was typing into. Her fingers lingered over the keys. Her father had always told her arrogance was a tool to be used against those with weaker minds.
She had put a throne in the temple at one end of the room. Opposite her was a dais holding a tomb. The tomb was to be given great honor by all her subjects; the body of her dead father, Lord Tan, lay in there. She sat to the south, his tomb to the north. In Chinese belief, north was heaven; in her belief, Tan ruled heaven. To the east was a golden table, decorated richly with Chinese lettering, the great Lord Tan's teachings and philosophies etched on it. The slab had a fire designed to burn eternally.
This table was for sacrifices. Straps were hung neatly at both ends of the slab, placed so the sacrificial offering could be secured. A knife lay beside the flame, its jeweled hilt glittering. The stone still held the fear left behind by the last lamb. "One must pay for one's mistakes," Lord Tan's spirit demanded in retribution, and Xia wielded the sword in the glory of his name.
The lamb had been demeaned by his fear and struggled against what would ultimately be his salvation, a salvation from the errors of his worldly existence. He would be forever at his master's feet.
The man's eyes had been wide with fear, yet he had felt compelled not to turn from the abhorrent sight. He trembled as she ran the point of the knife from his toes up his body, taking a moment to hover over his heart. As the point of the knife had pricked his skin, he had shuddered slightly.
The lady had chanted over her subject as she held the knife in the air above him, a look of pure ecstasy crossing her face as she watched his blood drip onto his quivering skin. Forgiving him for all his mistakes, she had called to the heavens; she had called on her lord, too. "Receive this gift," she had offered as she brought the weapon downward, thrusting the knife into the man's heart.
"Alexander, I hope you have good news," she said as she nodded her head ever so slightly toward the table.
Alexander raised his head, but continued to kneel. "Yes, My Lady. I went to the hospital today. The young lamb has been moved to a private room with no guard; only his sister was with him today. Visitors are limited to only his foster family and fellow officers." He bowed his head again, waiting to see if he pleased his leader. He lived to please her. She had saved him from homelessness and given him new life. His family had abandoned him, leaving him to fend for himself. When they had first met in the entryway of the old building, she had promised him a home and love.
She thought about the information. "Good. The plan has been altered, but we can still proceed. Your next duty is to get the second lamb. Lord Tan will be displeased if we do not sacrifice these two before the next full moon."
"Yes, My Lady. We shall get her tonight. What of young Caine?"
"I shall tend to that. Now, go," she ordered, then looked off toward her father's tomb. Soon, she would have her revenge.
Peter had been moved to a private room. Kelly Blaisdell was at his bedside when Paul, Kermit and Skalaney arrived.
The room was freshly painted, the light mauve color accented with a border of wallpaper showing flowers intertwined with a vine. The curtains at the window were parted, allowing the afternoon sun to brighten the room.
Peter was uncharacteristically still. Normally, he even tossed and turned while he slept. Now, though, the stark white sheets were pulled up to his chest. They lay smoothly over the contours of his thighs and abdomen, showing no evidence of movement, except the gentle rise and fall of the sheet over his chest with each breath. His eyes were closed, the eyelids occasionally fluttering quickly. The only sounds in the room were the gentle whir of the IV pump and the bubbling of water in the oxygen humidifier bottle.
Paul took in the scene: Peter's quiet breathing, the faint voice from the hospital intercom system as it called out messages to hospital personnel, the ominous silence in the room foretelling of a storm approaching.
"How is he?" Mary Margaret asked, her voice low.
"He's not up for visitors." The hoarse response came from Peter.
"Good to see you, too, Partner," Mary Margaret quipped. "We need to get a statement about what happened."
Peter looked away from her and Kermit toward the window, but was met by Paul's gaze. "Son, I know this is hard, but it has to be done. Your father had his hearing today. He pled not guilty." Paul stopped and waited for a reaction. He tried to take it easy with Peter, pushing his cop instincts to the back. Peter needed a father now, but there was also work to be done. Not getting anything except Peter closing his eyes, Paul continued, "Trial is set for two months from now."
Again there was no verbal response, but the emotion playing across Peter's face said everything he was thinking. As an officer, he knew the drill, knew the need for statements, but right now all he could think about was how and why this happened. 'Is this how every victim feels?' he questioned. His jaws clenched and unclenched; his eyes squeezed tighter shut.
"Kermit, you and Skalaney take Kelly to the snack bar. I need to talk to Peter, alone."
Nodding, the detectives and Kelly left. Peter heard the door close gently, but kept his eyes shut. Anger grew in him, pushed on by the pain in his abdomen. He had kept it in check with Kelly, trying not to lash out at her. 'Why?' he questioned himself. 'Why would my father, my father who professes to love me, do this?' Sure, Peter had been to scenes where a parent had killed a child in the name of love. He hadn't understood how a parent could do that -- certainly not his own.
"Peter, you need to…" Paul started, but was cut off as Peter's rage boiled out of his mouth.
"NEED TO WHAT, PAUL?! Talk about how MY FATHER tried to kill me? MY FATHER who is supposed to LOVE ME?! I don't want to even THINK about it, Paul!"
Peter stopped, grabbing his abdomen as pain shot through him like hot lances. The muscles he had used to rant screamed at him of the abuse he was causing. He snapped closed his eyes, but his mind replayed the scene of being tied up and watching in horror as the knife came down, angry that he had not been able to defend himself.
Paul didn't reply. Instead, he poured some water into a cup and placed a clean straw in it. "Here, drink some of this. You want me to see if you can have something for pain?"
Slowly opening his eyes, Peter looked into the steel blue eyes that were shaded by graying bushy eyebrows, eyes he had come to know as non-judgmental.
"No, it'll stop," Peter said, sorry for yelling at Paul, but not sorry for the words.
"I don't know why this happened, Peter. I wish it hadn't, but it did. So now we have to deal with it," Paul continued as Peter drank the proffered water.
"Skalaney thinks Caine was drugged, and I am starting to believe her." Paul watched and waited for another wave of anger to come from his foster son, but it never came. "When I found you, Caine was at the house. Kelly said he was acting strange; so did Annie. The Ancient said something about Caine's chi being poisoned."
Peter thought about what Paul was telling him. His anger hadn't lessened toward Kwai Chang Caine, but it hadn't grown, either. "That still doesn't excuse what he did."
"No, Son. It doesn't. But it at least lets us know why. Peter, he's your father and he loves you. He would never intentionally do this."
"So the knife accidentally slipped from his studio into my apartment and into me?" Peter hissed angrily.
"That's not what I'm saying. It's just that if he was poisoned or drugged, then we need to find out by whom and why. If that's the case and you didn't die, then they could do something else." Paul kept his tone level. Over the years, Paul had learned to keep his cool; raising his voice would only add fuel to the anger already burning in Peter. "I was going to place an officer outside the door, but the Commissioner wouldn't approve the extra money, so a few of your friends will be in to see you."
"Paul, I don't need a babysitter," Peter interjected.
"I know you don't, but I would feel better if someone were here with you, all right?"
Peter glared at Paul, wanting an argument, wanting to be left alone, but also wanting to believe the 'ifs' Paul had recited.
Looking away, he said, "OK. Let's get it over with." He didn't want a guard outside the door, and if a friend was with him, he could get them to help him leave.
A knock on the door signaled Skalaney and Kermit's return.
Kelly came in and grabbed her purse. "I'm going home for a while, Dad. You want me to come back later?"
"No, Sweetheart. I'll stay with Peter tonight, but would you see if Caroline would bring me some clean clothes tomorrow?"
Peter nodded and watched Kelly give her father a kiss on the cheek. He had always envied the closeness Kelly and Carolyn had with their father. Knowing that Paul loved him as his son had brought Peter through many difficulties as a teenager. Peter had grown closer to Carolyn due to the small difference in ages, but Kelly had always been able to make Peter forget his troubles with her bubbly personality. She reached for Peter's hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. She gave Peter a kiss and a warm smile, then left.
Kermit pulled out a pocket-sized recorder and laid it on the over-bed tray, close to Peter. "For the record," he began as he pushed in the record button. He noted the date, then told Peter, "State your name and title."
"Detective Peter Caine, 101st Precinct."
"OK, Detective Caine, what exactly do you remember about your assault?"