Part 9
"Peter, are you sure you're ready to do this?" Annie asked, concerned for her injured child. She touched his face, running her fingers gently over his face, testing for any signs of stress or pain Peter might not admit.
He pressed his cheek into her hand, then turned his head to kiss her palm while reaching up to hold her hand in place. "I'm sure, Mom. I've got it under control and when we get to Chinatown, Carolyn can run into Yong Fi's and get the herbs I need. I'm pretty sure the few plants that I had left a week ago are dead."
Her lilting laughter filled the room. "You never were one to have a green thumb. What Caine and Lo Si were thinking of when they left you in charge of the plants, I'll never know."
"You ready to go?" Jessie came into the den. She had arrived only a few minutes earlier to take Peter around Chinatown. It was Paul's hope that the woman could keep Peter out of trouble.
"Where do you think you're going, Jessie?" Peter released his mother's hand to stare at his friend. "I thought you had to work."
Dark straight hair fell around her shoulders as she pulled her hair out of her jacket collar. "With you. All you'll be doing is asking people questions, right? Besides, how are you going to get there? Paul called me and asked if I could drive you around the area."
"Carolyn was supposed to take me."
"Well, I think she sort of backed out of it. Does it matter who you go with?"
A flicker of memory passed through Peter's mind as he recalled the last time he had been in Chinatown with company. It had been a pleasant day with no demands on either of them, except to enjoy each other's company. The bullet that Stiles said was meant for him had buried itself in Kelly's shoulder.
"Come on, it'll be fine. You can get some herbs and maybe we can find you a date," Jessie teased, trying to ease the tension that was slowly building. Annie's hand trembled ever so slightly as she walked behind Peter. That move wasn't lost on Jessie, nor was Peter's pale appearance.
***
Jessie maneuvered her car into the parking spot in front of the herbal shop. She got out with her shopping list of the things Peter wanted. He had opted to stay in the car while she went inside. His leg had started hurting after they had traveled only a few blocks, but he had refused to turn around. He had a job to do and Jessie knew he would find a way to do it.
"Hurry, Jess," Peter asked, his voice controlled to prevent her from worrying as she got out of the car, list of herbs in her hand.
Peter closed his eyes as pain from his leg shot hot needles through his side. He focused his mind on the area below his navel, the Dan Tien, as he had been taught so long ago. Slowing his breathing, he relaxed muscles that were taut with stress and pain. He felt the pain diffuse and follow the meridians and channels as it filtered through and out of his body.
He didn't know how long he had been in this trance when the sound of the door opening and the paper bag Jessie set between them broke his concentration. In her hand, Peter saw a styrofoam cup with a lid over it. He smiled. "You think of everything."
"I just knew you would pitch a fit if I took you back home. Yong Fi gave me some other herbs for your pain and chi. He even had a cup of hot water. They've already steeped, so it's ready for you to drink." She offered him the cup after taking off the plastic lid. When she had first gotten out of the car, she had noticed the grimace that furrowed his brow and the ragged breathing he attempted to control.
Taking a sip, Peter was surprised at the taste. It wasn't bitter like the tonics his father always made. It wasn't something he'd want to drink every day, but it wasn't bad.
Jessie started the car as Peter finished the drink. "We can go to the Silver Dragon. It is across the street from Red Lobster and we can sit outside. You can even stretch that leg out."
Pedestrian traffic was heavy, slowing their progress to the restaurant. Eventually they got there and settled in.
The people of Chinatown recognized their young priest and came over to talk with him. Some sat and talked as others just gave greetings as they passed by. Watching Peter question the well wishers with a skill only a good cop could hone made Jessie glad she had come with him. He needed this; he needed to feel useful.
***
Tapping away on his keyboard, Kermit searched for any references to bombings that had gone unsolved in the past year. There had been a total of seven so far: four overseas and the other three in the States, two of which occurred in the metropolitan area.
Looking at his watch, he saw he had less than an hour to finish his search before the meeting was to take place. A feeling nagged at the back of his mind, buried under several other matters, including his relationship with Karen. He tried to summon the elusive thought, but it wouldn't come, so he continued on his present course.
Next, he searched for bombs from the Second World War. The type found in the bombings matched those that the Japanese had made. The shells were of a different substance, lighter by a few pounds than those of the Allied Forces.
A commotion in the bullpen pulled Kermit's attention from the screen in time to see Peter and Jessie enter. Jody and Mary Margaret were by Peter's side with Frank walking a few steps behind him.
Jessie pulled a chair over for Peter, taking away his crutches and putting them out of both harm's way and Peter's reach.
Karen Simms came out of her office and greeted Peter, shaking his hand. She noticed the drooping of his eyelids and looked at her watch. "Come into my office, Det… Peter," she corrected quickly, walking back toward her office.
Blake helped Peter stand as Jessie retrieved the crutches. Walking ahead of Peter, Jessie saw what the Captain had in mind. Karen had recently acquired a small couch. It wasn't very long, but it would allow Peter to prop up his leg. Closing the blinds allowed him the privacy he needed to regain control of the pain that had returned with a vengeance.
"Kermit, I need a cup of hot water," Jessie politely ordered. "James, when that gets done, would you steep this in the water?" She handed her brother a small cheesecloth bag, its ends tied with a string.
"All right, people. Visiting hour is over. Let's get back to work," Strenlich bellowed.
The orderly chaos that normally filled the building resumed, though there was an occasional stare toward the Captain's office. Some speculation arose as first Kermit, then Skalany and Dakota entered the small room. Minutes later Strenlich went in with Paul Blaisdell. A glare from the Chief of Detectives prevented another interruption in work.
"I assume everyone knows each other, with the exception of James Dakota. James, this is Paul Blaisdell, the former Captain of the 101st. He's also Peter Caine's foster father. Paul, this is Detective James Dakota. He came to us when Peter resigned. Both James and Mary Margaret will be working the bombings," Karen started as she sat down behind her desk.
The office was crowded, but everyone found a place. Paul and Kermit each sat on the arms of the couch. Frank took his usual stand at the filing cabinet while Mary Margaret took the remaining chair. James propped himself against the window. Jessie excused herself, saying she had to go back to the office after Paul said he'd take Peter home.
"OK, let's see what we've got. Mary Margaret, James?"
"We contacted the New York police about a bombing there. Kermit discovered that they found the same type device as we did. The officer in charge of the case was a Sgt. Magnum of the 21st. Said that they finally identified all the victims. Some were pretty influential and connected with the UN. That's not surprising considering that the restaurant was only a few blocks from the UN," Mary Margaret said. "Also, there were no witnesses. Some people in the building across the street saw some balloons, but that was all. They couldn't describe them too well."
Sitting up slowly, Peter joined in. "Some of the people I spoke to today said they saw white balloons with small baskets flying over the area. There were about four and they were dropping things."
"Why the hell didn't they tell us that?" Dakota stood, his temper flaring.
"Detective, sit down and listen," Karen answered calmly.
Peter smiled as he remembered the times he had been reprimanded in such a manner and then had regretted the outburst. "As I was saying, they saw these balloons. One remembered being incarcerated during the war and seeing something similar to it fly over the prison compound."
"That would match what I found," Kermit added. "The way the shell was made and its structure match what the Japanese manufactured. They used a type of balloon and the air currents to send the balloons to America. Because they needed to travel over the ocean, the shells needed to be light. It was an ingenious idea, really. Sandbags provided ballast and would fall when a balloon descended too far. Eventually, the bombs fell off. Only one bomb actually did any damage in the U.S. during World War II. It fell into a clearing where some kids were playing. They kicked the bomb and it exploded, killing all of them as well as their mother. This year, there have been several unsolved bombings, including these two here in our city. Each scene has yielded this type bomb."
Paul waited for Kermit to finish, then began his report. "My contacts at the FBI said that there is definitely something odd happening. Several people have come up missing or dead, all of whom are related to someone linked to the UN. So far, I haven't found a connection or heard any names associated with yesterday's bombing."
"Yeah, the one person involved in yesterday's explosion with any political connections was Sue Anderson, the Govenor's niece. I checked her out. Seems she has been working with the homeless. Her grandmother had custody of her from the time she was three to when she reached eighteen and still has custody of Sue's money. A unit is going to pick up her boyfriend so I can question him, seems he doesn't like the idea of a cop coming to his place of business." Mary Margaret smiled as she related more of her information.
"The way it looks is that the bombing yesterday was meant to resemble those across the world, except that no one of worldly importance was involved. The one in the 48th precinct's area killed several people, including the British Ambassador's wife."
"So now we are involved in world espionage?" Dakota asked, once again pushing away from the wall.
Pain and exhaustion triggered Peter's temper. "Yeah! And what are you going to do about it? All you've done so far is whine about how you have been treated."
"Peter." The one word and the low tone in which Paul said it was enough to calm Peter back down. "The way it looks is that the bombing here is part of a world affair."
"Very well. Thank you all for being here. I would like to make one thing clear. This is a TEAM, and I will stress the word team. No one person or organization will get all the glory or mudslinging that might come our way. Do I make myself clear?" Captain Simms' cool glare at both Dakota and Peter led to mumbled "yes, Captain"s from them and grins from the others.
Paul helped Peter to the car with Blake's assistance, while Kermit went back to his computer.
***
Delancy's was crowded with police officers and citizens from all walks of life. The smell of food and liquor filled the air. Smoke added another smell, one that Kermit could have done without.
Karen sat in a corner booth, twirling the ice in her drink with the small umbrella that had come with it. Her hair was no longer pulled back into one long braid as was often her custom in the office. Instead, she had loosened it, allowing only the clasp at the crown of her head to hold back the hair from her face. The golden locks trailed down her shoulders and back.
Kermit stared at her for a moment before he walked toward her as he waved at Terry, the bartender, to indicate the need for his usual drink. "Am I forgiven?"
'Don't look into his eyes, Karen,' she told herself as she caught the sight of sunglasses in his hand. The touch of his hand on her shoulder made her betray her thoughts. She saw the pent up memories in his dark brown eyes. Memories that he couldn't share with anyone…yet.
Taking her silence as not 'no', he sat across from her, laying his glasses on the table, within easy reach. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you about it."
"You and Blaisdell go a long way back. Why should I be surprised that you'd be in on his schemes anyway?" Karen still wouldn't allow herself to meet his eyes.
"Blaisdell got me into police work. When he left, I continued being a cop because of Peter. I owed Paul that much. The day Peter resigned, I started thinking of a job he and I could do together, at least until Paul returned."
Hearing the excuse, she looked up at him. "So you're Peter's protector?"
"His friend. I've known about him since Paul took him in. When Paul gave me my badge, it was just after Peter had been promoted to detective. His partner had been transferred out, so Paul hooked the kid up with Skalany. She'd been there long enough to know him and knew how to handle him. Paul needed someone to help curb the kid's brashness, so I came over. I never meant to stay a cop."
"Now that Paul is back and Peter's somewhat safe, do you want to quit?"
Terry delivered Kermit's drink as Karen asked him about his plans for the future.
Toying with his glasses, Kermit thought of what he wanted Karen to hear and what he would love to say, but couldn't. "Lately, we've gotten to know each other rather well. When you and Caine were kidnapped, I went mad. I needed to find you. I realized then that I wanted something more of a relationship than stolen kisses here and there. The policy manual says that you can't be my Captain. I will not be transferred to another precinct and you shouldn't have to forfeit your career because of me."
Karen was unable to believe her ears. This was more than Kermit had ever admitted. "I think you are getting ahead of yourself. The manual says that relatives cannot serve as superiors. We are not married, just lovers." She decided to play it cool, see if Kermit would clarify his words. The look on his face made her think she had gone too far.
Bowing his head, Kermit fought for the right words to say. "One day, I hope to change that," he murmured, unsure if she had heard the sentence. Changing to a safer topic, Kermit told her of a memory he had today when he learned of the people being killed.
(flashback)
Hurrying to unlock his apartment door, Kermit mentally counted the number of rings his phone screamed out. Murphy's Law dictated that the intensity of the rush you were in to get past a lock equaled the amount of stubbornness with which the lock held tight. "Murphy and Einstein must have been brothers," Kermit mumbled as the lock finally gave and the door opened.
Picking up on the eleventh ring, Kermit allowed frustration into his voice. "What?"
"Is this Kermit Griffin?" the deep bass voice asked.
It was a voice Kermit had long forgotten about -- a voice that brought Kermit's anger at the lock to a halt.
"What's happened?" Kermit asked. There was only one reason why this man would call.
McKenzie had been Kermit's mentor so long ago, then, over the years of Kermit's mercenary days, had become a friend and confidant. Before there was Paul Blaisdell, there was Mac. Mac, who had helped the eighteen year old boy get into the business of espionage and spying after Kermit had signed up for military duty. (His scores on the entrance exam had been high in the area related to the specialty of intelligence.) Mac, who had promised the recent high school graduate that he would watch over Kermit's current love, Tonya Hellstrom.
During the Vietnam War, Tonya had stopped writing to Kermit. Mac had told him she had disappeared and that her brother, a rapidly rising military man, would not tell anyone where his sister was. It wasn't until after the war that Mac told Kermit of Tonya's travails. She had died, but not before giving birth to a boy -- a son she called Jim. Mac's knowledge of the last time Kermit and Tonya had been together and the timing of her disappearance convinced him that Jim was Kermit's son. He then went on to advise Kermit to let Major Hellstrom raise the child, promising to watch over the boy.
"Jim has been abducted. No one knows about you, not even Jim. I have a plan to get to him, but it may take me a while. Remember Straker? It's rumored he has started abducting people who could prove to be politically useful. General Hellstrom has managed to be placed over the committee investigating war crimes in Bosnia. Some people think that there should be no investigation and will do anything to ensure the General doesn't report what he finds. You have skills that I don't have."
"Do you have any information on where he's being held?" Kermit reached for pen and paper, then wrote down the information and the identity of the man responsible for the kidnapping. "How will you contact me? Sure, my email at the station is tadpole at aol.com."
"I'll contact you with what I can, when I can. You just see to it that you can get us out."
Breaking his connection, Kermit turned off the lights and sat alone in his apartment. The shadows only came out when the lights were on and he just couldn't handle them tonight.
End flashback
"So you think this Straker is involved in this somehow?"
"I don't know. I've got some feelers out for some information on him and Paul is getting some of his friends to look into it also. So, shall we go home?"
Smiling as she took one last drink from her glass, Karen nodded. "Oh, yeah."
***
Across town, the inhabitants of the split-level home slept. Kelly had stopped fighting off the effects of the painkiller she had taken earlier. Peter also had retired early. His trip to Chinatown and to the precinct had left him exhausted and in pain. The herbal tea calmed some of his nerve endings, but not enough for him to rest. Taking a painkiller himself at his mother's encouragement, Peter went to bed.
His sleep was disturbing. The once quiet darkness of his mind turned colorful as Paul lay on the ground, his chest covered with a growing red stain. A pencil-sized hole was dark over where Paul's heart would be. Reaching down, Peter felt for a pulse.
"PAUL!"
"Peter, it's all right." Paul sat on the edge of the bed, holding Peter's shoulders, gently shaking the young man to wake him up. "I'm right here. Come on now, wake up. It's just a bad dream."
Hazel eyes, dark with fear and anger, finally recognized the figure beside him. Peter looked from Paul's face to his chest and back. "I-I thought th…" Peter tapered off, not wanting to acknowledge the horror he had just witnessed.
"Thought what?" Paul moved to hold his son's hand. The word 'nothing' tried to spring to Peter's lips, an automatic defense he had learned long ago. Seeing Paul with him now and being shaken by the memory of both the true past and the dream, he couldn't let this man get away again without telling him the truth. "It…it was a dream. You were…killed, Dad. I don't want to lose you again."
The grim words nonetheless brought joy to Paul's terrified heart, for he knew the effort Peter had put forth to talk about his dream. As a teenager, Peter's only defense had been to ignore the nightmares, saying nothing was wrong.
"I don't plan on going anywhere for a long time, son." Silence filled the void between them. It was a comfortable silence, one where they shared each other's unspoken feelings. "I was going to the kitchen for some hot cocoa. Want to join me?"
Peter smiled, his fears disappearing and the close companionship of so long ago returning.
Helping his son into the kitchen, Paul then made them each a cup of the promised drink. "We've got to start tracking down leads in the morning. I need to drive Kelly to the doctor and then I'm going to head over to the precinct and see what everyone has found. Want me to drop you off at the precinct?"
"Yeah, but I think I'll need to have some more tea to make it all day," Peter said as he savored another sip of the dark drink. "I want to go and talk to some more people in Chinatown also."
"I'm sure Karen will let you borrow her couch, or even a bunk in one of the cells," Paul teased, his blue eyes twinkling with quiet laughter. "I'll drop you off then and you and Kermit can see what kind of trouble you can get into." Putting his and Peter's empty cups into the dishwasher, Paul saw Peter's exhaustion written all over the young man's face. "Need some help getting back to bed?"
"Nah. I think I just need to practice some relaxation techniques. I'll be all right. You go on to bed."
"Annie told me about your lessons at the Y and the center. Would you be interested in another pupil?"
Peter's eyes grew wide for a second before he regained his control. "I'd be honored." He bowed, unable to maintain the solemn look on his face. Bowing allowed him to hide the smile that played on his lips. "Come on and I'll show you how to sit still for more than five minutes."
"You? Sit still for more than five minutes? Must be some sort of miracle." Paul followed Peter into the den to begin his first lesson.
The slow exercise made it easy for Peter to fall asleep. Dreams were held at bay by exhaustion. He woke to the feel of sunshine on his face, its warmth wrapping around him like a cocoon. Grabbing his crutches, Peter made his way to the bathroom just down the hall. He tried to be quiet, not hearing either of his parents moving about.
A warm shower sent his blood flowing more quickly as his heart pounded with the awaking energy and heat to his body. Shaving was next after drying off and wrapping the towel around his waist. The appliance on his leg made the towel stick out, so he readjusted the modest cover so the ends were over the leg.
Applying his shaving cream, he began the customary slow strokes with the razor blade, as Paul had taught him so many years ago. A blonde head reflected in the mirror. "Good morning, Mom. I didn't wake you, did I?"
"No, sweetie. We were just lying in bed, remembering the old times. Discussing what went on while he was gone." Annie walked up behind Peter, wrapping her arms around his waist.
He saw her lean to the side so that Peter could see her face, though she couldn't see his. He watched her through the mirror as she talked. Peter noticed a red mark on her face, then saw the ruby stone of his ring and chalked up the mark to a reflection from the stone. The moment's hesitation caused him to nick himself. Stemming the flow of blood as his mother handed him some tissue, Peter's mind wandered, showing him scenes of Annie lying in a pool of blood, then himself and Paul at a funeral. The headstone read: "Beloved wife of Paul Blaisdell. Annie Blaisdell, born 1946. Died 1999."
"No," Peter whispered, shaking his head to rid himself of the ghostly images.
"Peter? What's wrong?" Concern built up in the unseeing mother. She had felt the tremble in her son's body as she put her arms back around him after giving him the tissue.
Unwilling to tell her about his vision, Peter took a deep calming breath, forced a smile, and answered, "Nothing."
Knowing he wouldn't say what was troubling him until he felt like it, Annie kissed his shoulder. "Remember, I love you, no matter what."
Peter turned to look at her, "What?"
"All I said was I love you." With that, Annie left.