Part 7
Paul pushed his way through the crowd at the 101st Precinct's front desk. Fire lit his blue eyes and set his pace-- fire from anger both at himself and at the ones who had abducted Peter.
He had gone to check on Peter in x-ray, only to find the MRI machine broken and no patients around. The scene still played in his mind. The Radiology Department was on the first floor, near the Emergency Room. A desk separated the lobby from the sections; a brunette sat at the desk, her name tag prominent on her lapel.
"May I help you?" she asked as Paul walked up, trying to peer into the windows of the sections.
He opened his wallet, showing his badge, "I am Captain Paul Blaisdell with the 101st Precinct. My foster son was brought down about five minutes ago for a MRI. A Ms. Thomas and Mr. Waters came and got him, are they still here?"
"They went on break earlier. They haven't brought anyone down. Besides, the MRI has been down since last night. Are you sure they were Brenda and Mike?"
"I saw their name tags, and they said they were bringing him here." Paul's gut tightened. "The woman was tall and slim, dark hair and eyes. The man was gray-haired, balding a little in the back."
The clerk noticed the anxiety building in the officer, but the news she had to give him was not going to relieve it any. "I'm sorry. Brenda is a brunette but she is not slim. Mike is a teenager, just graduated from high school."
Paul felt the blood drain from his face at her information. He berated himself for not checking deeper with the two who came and got Peter. "I need to use your phone." The clerk handed him the receiver and listened as he called for security to check the hospital and call for three units to come and assist with the search.
"Any word from Skalaney?" Paul asked crisply, pausing at the front desk. He continued on toward the squad room when Broderick shook his head.
Kwai Chang Caine sat in Kermit's office, his face composed to reveal no emotion. This was a different Caine from the one Paul had seen yesterday. Caine's hazel eyes were dark; the only sign Paul had that Caine was worried. Peter's hazel eyes acted much the same way.
Paul closed the door behind him after calling Strenlich in to join them. "They found the two employees in a laundry bin. One was dead; the other is in surgery." Paul started out, pacing the small area of the office. He rubbed his chin with the back of his hand, again thinking of what he should have done.
"Skalaney's car was in the parking deck at Peter's apartment building. She wasn't there, though the tape was cut on the door. They found this," Frank explained, handing a plastic bag to his Captain.
All four men gathered close to see the object in the bag. Caine reached for the bag with one hand and for Paul with the other, squeezing Paul's hand. "It is Mary Margaret's. I gave it to her. They have both her and Peter."
"How do you know?" Paul asked, anger again rising. Kermit watched and waited for the bomb to explode. He didn't have to wait long. Paul thrust his fist toward the bookshelf, only to have it stopped by Caine's quick reflexes.
Caine held the fist with one hand and gently stroked it with his other. "Our anger should be directed at those who have taken Peter and Mary Margaret. We must use our anger, to channel it so we may find them. We cannot let it use us, or they are doomed." Caine paused, letting the words penetrate the turbulent feelings pent up in the small office. "To answer your question: I can feel their anger and fear, their confusion. But I cannot tell where they are. I told Kermit I remember then taking me to a shrine. Candles burned around a tomb. Fear and death hung in the air. A man was killed, while others looked on. I…recognized him as Mary Margaret and my waiter. They told me he was sacrificed for his mistakes, but they did not tell me what it was. All I can remember after that was being taken to your home, and your daughter finding me."
Kermit saw the doubt in Paul's eyes. Doubt that Kermit had felt earlier, but after talking with Caine, now believed. "He told me he'd been drugged, Paul. It all fits. We both know Caine and that he wouldn't hurt anyone, especially Peter. You said his actions when Annie saw him and when you talked to him were odd. Another thing: that body they recovered was the waiter, positive ID was made earlier."
The dream was so real. He was back at his father's temple that overlooked the lake. The spirit that dwelled there remained. The familiar scent of burning wax and the sound of chanting filled his senses. His father and Ping Hi mixed herbs, the fragrances from the herbs mixing and assaulting the nose. There was a balcony on one side where the herb garden was kept. Butterflies and bees made their way from flower to flower. In the main chamber, kung fu exercises were being done, overlooked by Master Khan and other priests. Dennis was alive; trying to duplicate the inner crescent spin one of the older students had learned.
"Peter, come on!" Dennis shouted. Peter smiled and tried to run to Dennis, only to find he couldn't move.
"Peter, come on. Wake up," Dennis' voice suddenly turned feminine. The dream hazed as the voice spoke again, becoming impatient. "Peter."
Peter opened his eyes and looked around, trying to see why he couldn't move. Two candles lighted the room. He found he was sitting in a straight-backed chair, his hands tied to the arms of the chair.
"Peter, I'm over here," the voice stated, more relaxed now that Peter was awake. "How are you feeling?"
He turned his head toward the voice, the final tendrils of the memory vanishing. "Skalaney? Where are we?"
She breathed a sigh of relief. "The old museum, I think. They didn't give me time to ask the address." She sat two feet from her partner, in a chair similar to his. Her hands were also tied. She was dressed in a white gown; her dark hair and eyes were illuminated by the candlelight.
"How long have we been here?" Peter asked as the familiar abdominal pain began.
"I got here about 30 minutes before you." She ran her eyes over her partner, her vision limited by the angle of their chairs. She saw the perspiration and grimace on his face, then looked at his chest. "Peter, you're bleeding." The anxiety she felt earlier at being abducted had been pushed down, but now it was again slowly building.
Peter followed her gaze and saw the red stain on the pearly white robe he wore. He felt his heart race, knowing what little blood was on the robe did not compare to the amount of blood internally. He closed his eyes, attempting a healing meditative state his father had taught him. He slowed his breathing and concentrated on finding his center. In his mind, he saw the oozing of blood, the capillaries broken open from the rough handling when his abductors got him in and out of the car.
"I'll be all right," he answered, raising his head, giving Mary Margaret a weak smile. "We need to find a way out." The meditation technique required him to be still and empty his mind of physical problems.
A wicked laugh caused both captives to look toward the door that was opening slowly, casing bright light into the room. "You will find a way out, 'Brother' Caine. The same way out as my father!" More of the laughter came from Xia as she stood at the doorway. She wore a robe similar to Peter and Mary Margaret's, only the color was deep red. "Alexander, Scott, come get the lambs ready for the altar. She will go first to meet Lord Tan."
"Why are you doing this?" Peter asked, energy and blood both seeping slowly from his body.
Xia entered the room. "Revenge, my brave young friend. Revenge for my father's death, a death that YOUR father caused. He will be here, do not worry. But it will be after you are both dead," she hissed. "For him to think that you died, believing he was the one that killed you, that is the ultimate revenge. For after he finds you, he will also die." Her voice had changed, had taken on the sound of Kwai Chang Caine's. "It was so easy." Her smile returned. "You were deceived by the people around you, and neither you nor your father knew." Her loud cackle filled the room.
"You, you're the one that came into my apartment." Peter stated the fact. The memory of the night came back. He had told Kermit he did not see the intruder's face, had only heard the voice of his father. "He didn't stab me. You did."
"Now I see why you are a detective. So…bright and so handsome. I wish this did not have to end this way, but it must. I could have you serve me all my days, but then I wouldn't get to see the look on Caine's face when he sees the two people he cares for most, dead." She opened the door again, letting Alexander and Scott come in to prepare the victims.
Paul watched as Kermit typed in information and waited on answers that both prayed were available. Kermit looked up as he typed in the last request for information, and saw his friend in anguish. "Paul, stop beating yourself. You couldn't have known they were there to get the kid. You said yourself they had all the right answers, had name tags, everything."
Paul looked up, his age apparent on his face. The past 36 hours had taken a toll on him both physically and mentally. "You're wrong Kermit, I should have known. There was a time when I could spot a terrorist before they got near me. A lot of lives depended on me then; Peter depended on me now."
"Look, remember when Peter went undercover with Tan? You had your hesitations about it but followed through. Yes, Peter got shot, but look at what he found along the way. You know as well as I do, we will always make mistakes," Kermit said encouragingly.
Paul sat there, digesting the information. "Tan."
Kermit stared. "What about him? I thought he was dead."
"Something about the train set and those books. Kermit, where are those pictures of Peter's apartment?" Excitement coursed through Paul's body as he thought of a clue they had overlooked. He walked over to stand behind Kermit.
Kermit moved piles of paper and handed Paul the envelope containing the crime scene pictures. "What is it?"
Paul looked at each picture, pausing at the one with the knife sticking out of Peter's abdomen. Slightly shaking his head, he moved on to the next picture. In the black and white photo, the train set and village lay on the floor. "Look. What do you see?"
Kermit took off his sunglasses to peer more clearly into the photo, trying to find what his mentor had found. "I don't see anything, Paul."
"All right, think about it. If you were to overturn the table the train set was on, what would happen to the contents? They would be more scattered, but look: they've been placed in an order." Paul then pulled out the photo of the bookshelves. "See here, the books are only selected ones. They all deal with Chinese religion. Come on, let's go over there and get a better look."
As they stepped out of Kermit's office, Paul called for Chief Strenlich. "Frank, we made need you to help us. Go get Caine; I think he's at the Ancient's. Bring them back to Peter's."
Paul and Kermit entered the apartment, which was now guarded by an uniformed officer. They walked over to the train set and looked for any clue they could find. The village hospital lay under the heavy platform; the church's steeple had broken off. Other homes and businesses were in different forms of disrepair. Some were unharmed. One building stood out from the others, separated and whole.
"Peter started this set after he came to live with us. He wanted buildings of everywhere we went. Said he wanted to remember his new adventures. We had the zoo and found a few animals for it." Paul smiled at the memories, then continued. "The church he put in because it reminded him of when he heard Annie singing in the choir. He wanted to put the temple somewhere on a hill; I had him one built and was going to give it to him for his birthday this year."
Kermit knew this was hard on Paul -- this was family that had been hurt. No matter how hard-nosed he was as a mercenary, Paul was still human. "We'll find him, Paul. What about the rest? What was it you saw in the picture?"
Paul picked up the lone building. "It's a museum. We went and saw the Chinese display when it came through a few years ago." Paul stopped, an idea coming to him. "Kermit, Tan was killed at that museum."
"But why would the killer give this as a clue? No, this has to be just a fluke, Paul."
"It's the only clue we have, and my gut says I'm right. But I don't think the killer left the clue."
"Then who did?" Kermit asked as he searched Paul's face for the answer. A slow grin spread over his lips. "Ms. Turner."
"As you would say, 'Oh, yeah.' Let's go see if she's in."
Mary Margaret was led from the dark chamber to the shrine dedicated to Lord Tan. She pulled back from her captor, trying to free her bound wrists. She tried kicking out as Caine had taught her but her efforts were unsuccessful. Alexander led her, while Scott escorted Peter to the altar. Peter was pushed to his knees as another guard came over and helped Alexander deposit Mary Margaret onto the stone slab. They untied her wrists and pushed her down. Two more men came and grabbed a leg each as she again started kicking and pulling her arms.
Peter heard the quiet 'ohms' of chanting and turned his head to see the chamber full of people robed and hooded. Candles burned along every wall. He watched as Mary Margaret struggled, and felt his guard's grip loosen as the commotion on the altar grew louder. Peter lunged to the side, knocking the man off balance, but was quickly met with a blow to his stomach, increasing the bleeding from his wound. Fireworks exploded behind his eyes as the pain shot through his body, causing him to bend over.
Mary Margaret saw the blow and hesitated, watching the once small bloody spot increase rapidly at Peter's abdomen. He pause gave the four men the chance to restrain her to the table. She pulled at the restraints as the belt to her robe was loosened.
Xia stepped up to the altar, her face void of expression, and motioned for all the men to step away, except Alexander and Scott, who now both guarded Peter. Peter watched as Xia picked up the knife from its stand and began to speak words in a language he did not understand. A woman came forward and drew open Mary Margaret's robe, exposing her soft flesh.
Mary Margaret continued to struggle uselessly. She screamed mentally and aloud for help from Peter, from Caine, from anyone around. "Don't do this. Peter, help me! Oh, God, please stop!" she cried out.
Peter watched in horror as Xia slowly drew the knife between her fingers, testing the sharpness of the blade. A trickle of blood sprang from Xia's fingers. She drew her bleeding fingers across Mary Margaret's forehead, leaving a trail of red.
The restraints held the victim tightly, the leather digging into her flesh. Mary Margaret heard the chanting, but from her viewpoint was unable to see the spectators. She tried to dodge Xia's fingers as the blood touched her forehead. Mary Margaret looked over at Peter and saw the paleness of her partner's skin. He looked even more washed out with the white robe around his shoulders, his dark hair moist from the perspiration, the spreading red of blood to his robe. His slight nod to her sent a shiver through her nervous system. Over the years, she had learned his movements and this one nod meant that he would try to stop the torture, or die in the attempt. 'Oh, Caine, where are you?' she asked in her mind as she felt the cold metal of the knife run up her inner leg.