Look at me. You may think you see who I really am, but you'll never know me.
Everyday, it's as if I've played a part. Now I see if I wear a mask, I can fool the world, but I cannot fool my heart.
Hiding now, in a world were I have to hide my heart and what I believe in, but somehow, I will show the world what's inside my heart and be loved for who I am.
Why is my reflection someone I don't know? Must I pretend that I'm someone else for all time?
Kendal Benson sat at the head of the table. Being president and co-founder had given him certain rights and privileges, which he willingly used. Eight other men sat in the room with him, four on each side of the large oak table. Not one man was out of shape; it was not permitted. A weight room was provided for each employee to use, down to the janitorial staff.
"What have you got for me, Wilson?" Benson asked his right hand man. He didn't worry about information leaking from the room; these men were his chosen group. This was not a formal business meeting and they knew the result of compromising the company. It was a company of free lance mercenaries who sold information about their, or anyone's, government to the highest bidder.
"Our informant has found Blaisdell. He is in a small town in North Carolina."
"And you have provided the informant with the needed paperwork?"
"Yes, sir. It will be delivered in the morning."
Benson nodded as he steepled his fingers in front of him. "Very well, then. Let the games begin."
**(flashback)
The day was ending. His heart had never been heavier than it was today. Even the traffic below him seemed to understand the need for silence. The clouds were heavy with snow, the setting sun turning their gray hue to shades of blue and orange.
Words didn't seem to come as easily as they usually did. Instead, silence hung between them, until finally he gathered his courage to speak. "I just need to clear the decks and wait for the phantoms to stop chasing me. I'm coming back," Paul promised, his voice catching on the lump in his throat as he hugged his son tightly.
Peter watched the man he'd come to call Dad turn and walk away.
**(Present)
Waking up, Paul cursed the dream that had been disturbing his sleep for the past two years. Seeing the hurt that lay behind his family's eyes that cold February day aroused his emotions, even in deep sleep.
The antique motel he had been living in for the past week would soon be a thing of the past. His bad dreams would end. "Now if I can just get my family to understand what I had to do and why I needed to leave the way I did."
He fingered the note pad that lay on the bedside table. Flipping it open, he reviewed all he had learned about the failed mission in the Ukraine twelve years ago that had left a young woman's family dead, their combined blood on Paul's conscience. Hopefully, he could again protect her from the one person no one had suspected was in on the massacre.
Robersonville, North Carolina had become her new home. Alexa, then a nineteen-year-old Russian scientist, had been secreted away in the States twelve years ago after the massacre of her family. The CIA had kept her location a secret, changed her name, and had her enrolled in the medical university in Atlanta, Georgia. Since then, she had married and had a family of her own, then moved to the small town of Robersonville.
Paul silently thanked Kermit for the lead on Alexa, now known as Susannah Livingston. She had helped with the development of vaccines against chemicals that are used in warfare and now devoted her time to her children and the fight against AIDS.
"Well, let's get this over with," Paul encouraged himself, pushing his body off the bed and into the shower. Time to get ready to meet Mrs. Livingston and bury the phantoms that continued to haunt him even now. Maybe even time to prevent further deaths in both his and her lives.
Stepping out of the shower, Paul stopped at the sound of the apartment door closing. Reaching for his gun, which was on the back of the commode, he slowly and silently eased the bathroom door open, peering into the one room apartment. He walked over to the door, knowing that it had been locked since he went to bed last night.
Atop the bed closest to the door, a plain brown envelope lay on the coverlet. It was the standard size for sending posters or unfolded letters. After he finished checking the room and quickly searching outside along the balcony, Paul opened the envelope.
He pulled out the contents-pictures, accompanied by a single sheet of paper. His hands trembled as photos of Annie and Peter out shopping, Kelly on the steps of the university, and Carolyn and Todd strolling through the park with the stroller came into view.
He read the note, unaware of the heat suffusing his face as anger burned inside him.
"Blaisdell,
If I wanted to kill your family, I could do it at any time. The wing can't protect you any longer."
The familiar words had first been said two years ago, shortly before Paul had been accused of murder. Those words had started the chain of events that led to where he was now.
Part 1
Peter rose to the morning sun as it streamed in through the window. Rubbing his eyes as he stood, he wondered why it felt so right to get up this early, when, for most of his life, he had slept in. As a police officer, he had been able to sleep until at least 7 and now his part-time job allowed some sleeping in also. Instead of chasing criminals, Peter now directed the after-school program at the YMCA.
The owner of the downstairs market continued to allow the Shaolin to live rent-free and paid for part of the utilities, though not the phone. That, the man had said, was a luxury only the young could afford.
Peter mentally checked how much was left in the trust fund Paul had set up for him so long ago. Withdrawals from it went to pay for the insurance on him and his car as well as his phone bill. Yes, it was time to get a full time job. Paul had started an account for each of his children, encouraging them to use it only as needed and pay into it when they could. As a detective, Peter had been able to contribute a portion of each check to it. There was still a good bit in the account, but he didn't want to continue to drain it more than was necessary.
Opening his eyes, he noticed the brands burned on the inside of each forearm. The physical stinging had stopped, but the pain of doubt still nagged at his mind. Doubts about his qualifications to be a Shaolin priest troubled him each day. "Lo Si said that was normal; the old man should know, shouldn't he?" he asked himself as he walked to the small kitchen just off the living room.
"Shouldn't he what?" a female voice answered.
Peter hadn't realized he'd talked out loud; he was a little more surprised that he had not heard or sensed the visitor. "Pop would have known," he thought, then said to the visitor, "Want some coffee?"
Kelly Blaisdell looked at her brother and smiled. "I thought Shaolin priests only drank tea?" Mischief was evident in her voice and on her face. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, with thin tendrils escaping around her hairline.
He couldn't help but smile at her. When he had come to live with the Blaisdell family so many years before, he had become her idol and hero. Ten years her senior, he felt the need to protect someone and she fell neatly into his needs. "I'm not that kind of priest," he answered in his father's familiar words, then smiled. "Have you had breakfast yet? Where's Mom?"
Kelly came into the room, having stood in the entryway long enough. "No, I thought I'd take you out this morning. Mom and I went out last night. We couldn't find you, so I figured I'd surprise you this morning."
Peter thought back to last night and why his sister would want to celebrate. It was another month to graduation from college, so that wasn't it. She wasn't serious with any one boy, so he didn't think she was engaged. "I had to go and help Mrs. Lee last night. What are we celebrating?"
Watching her brother leave the room from a different doorway, Kelly wondered if she should keep the answer secret a little longer. She loved to torment him with secrets and watch him think of reasons or answers. When he came back, dressed in loose jeans and silk shirt, she took in the look on his face. Creased brow, eyes roaming for an answer, lips set in a thin line. "OK, I got a job!"
"That's great," Peter said, the crease leaving his brow and his lips turning up into a smile. He walked to her and took her in his arms. "Reckon you need your first paycheck before we go out and celebrate, though."
His scent was wonderful; he had always smelled nice. She mentally checked her potential husband list, adding that her future spouse should smell like Peter. "They gave me an advance so I could buy clothes and such. I thought I'd use a little to take my family out to eat. Carolyn and Todd won't be back until next month and by then I will have my first real paycheck."
Peter grinned, happy for her, and allowed himself to open up to the mingling emotions of Chinatown. They walked down the overpopulated streets, heading for the outdoor restaurant that Peter had grown rather fond of. As they continued their journey, Peter felt the excitement Kelly was exuding, as well as the anxiety of pedestrians late for work or appointments and many other emotions. He had learned how to control the feelings he picked up and how to shut them out, though sometimes the lesson escaped his memory.
They arrived at the café. A waitress quickly came over to take their order as Peter pulled a chair out for Kelly.
He then walked around to sit across from her, but was interrupted by the café owner, Lo Ma, who approached the new priest.
"Excuse, please," the elderly man said in broken English. "Master Caine, can I speak with you?"
Peter watched the little bow Lo Ma gave and answered with his own bow. "Sure." He tried to keep the aggravation he felt at having his meal and visit disturbed out of his voice. "Kelly, would you order for me? This won't take long."
. She nodded and watched the two men walk off, wondering to herself if Peter's father had his meals interrupted by the residents of Chinatown.
Screeching tires and startled bystanders made Peter turn around from his conversation with Lo Ma. His cop instincts put his senses on alert as he scanned for the car and watched it drive toward them. Its front passenger window was rolled down barely an inch when shots rang out and the car sped away. Peter ran forward in an attempt to look at the license plate, not seeing Kelly slump over. Instead, his attention turned to her when he could no longer feel her presence in his mind.
He went to her, briefly forgetting the lessons he had learned about calming his chi; his only thought was for Kelly. Brushing the hair out of her face, he gently called her name. "Kelly? Kelly, c-can you hear me?"
She moaned softly, the bullet wound making itself known to her as consciousness slowly returned. "P-Peter? Oh, Peter, it hurts so bad." A tear escaped from her eyes as she squeezed them together in a failed attempt to get rid of the pain.
"Shhh, can you sit back and let me look?" He guided her back in the chair. She had been facing the street when the gunman's aim had sent the bullet into her left shoulder. Peter grabbed at the linen cloth on the table and pressed it firmly against the wound as he watched her tan color turn pale and her breathing get faster. "Kelly, you need to relax, OK?" He closed his eyes, attempting to calm his chi, to pass on his energy to her. Memory flooded him as he blocked out all the emotions that surrounded him.
Kelly felt the warmth of Peter's presence and the sense of calm he sent out to her. She didn't hear the sirens, only her brother's soothing words. Breathing had become the only goal for her as her lung filled with blood.
"Let me check her, sir," a male voice said to Peter. The paramedic stood with his hand on Peter's shoulder. "We'll take care of her, but I need you to step back."
"I can't let go of her," Peter answered. "Kelly, hang on. I'm right here with you."
"Sir, you really…" The paramedic was cut off by the presence of another man who arrived in an unmarked police car.
"He stays with her. Understand?" The officer wore dark sunglasses and his suit was outdated by twenty years.
The medic nodded, not missing the menace behind the cop's words. Both he and his partner worked on Kelly, placing a nasal cannula around her face to provide much needed oxygen and an IV in her arm. With Peter's help, they placed her on the stretcher and into the back of the ambulance.
"Peter, I'll meet you at the hospital," Kermit said before the doors were closed. He looked at Kelly clutching at Peter's hand, her eyes closed, then at Peter, whose expression was, for once, unreadable. That, more than anything, shook the ex-mercenary.
****
The split-level home loomed before Paul. A chain-link fence ran around both front and back yards. A gate sealed off the home and yards from the rest of the block. Two dogs lay on the porch, the sun beating down on their fur, as two children played in the yard.
Watching the kids at play reminded the older man of his own family, and the new grandchild he had been blessed with, though had not seen. "It won't be much longer," he promised himself and his unseen family.
Paul had questioned Cooper about what had happened those many years ago. Cooper had truly felt sorry for the young woman, but the money the KGB had given him was enough for him to ignore his conscience.
**flashback
"Frank, why did you do it? Why did you want to switch to the KGB?" Paul asked, his anger at being framed for Senator Matheison's murder by the man who sat before him already fading.
The interrogation room was quiet; not even the activity outside the door could be heard.
Frank Cooper sat in one of the two chairs that occupied the room, his hands bracing his head as he felt his world collapsing slowly. "From Police Commissioner to murderer," he thought as he surveyed the same room he'd brought criminals into not long ago. Now, he was one of them.
"Her mother, her father, an uncle, and a brother were murdered, as well as Janssen. He was one of us. What possibly could have been the reason? You already had a good job; the government did their best to pay us for our work. Damn, they even made way for us to have good paying jobs on the outside."
"You don't get it, do you, Blaisdell? What they were paying me came nowhere close to what the KGB could give me. As for Matheison, he deserved what he got, but there were a few things he didn't know." Cooper smiled an evil smile, the corner of his left eye twitching. "One was Stiles' involvement, another was that Benson was the ringleader."
**end flashback
Paul felt sick as he remembered the information that Cooper had given him that day. Benson had been placed in California after the incident, losing contact with the rest of the wing. Paul had never suspected Benson. He had been the youngest member of the team, eager and gung-ho, willing to do anything that was asked of him.
Looking back up at the house, Paul was glad he had beaten Benson to Alexa's home. After Cooper and Stiles had been found out, Paul had worried about her and about Benson's plan to find her and finish the job he had planned so long ago.
Rumors of her death had been circulated, but with enough digging, Kermit had discovered where she was. Paul was pretty sure Benson also had the information, so, as he climbed out of his car, he paused long enough to look around the neighborhood for anything suspicious. Seeing nothing amiss, he went across the street to be greeted by the two now fully awake and barking dogs.
The children looked up at the gray-haired stranger as he stood closed off from them by the gate. "Katrina, Michael, come here," their mother called from the porch.
She had her hair pulled back, the dark brown hair secured by barrettes. "Who are you and what do you want?" she asked as she walked down the concrete walk after making sure her children obeyed her.
As she drew closer, she paled. Her breathing became short and quick, her hands and arms shaking as she recognized the face that filled her dreams. Alexa started to return to the safety of her home, walking backwards, not wanting to take her eyes off the man in front of her. The dogs sensed her unease and gave a low growl.
"Alexa, please. Let me talk to you," Paul asked, sorry for making her afraid again.
Halting as he spoke, she nodded her head. "You were the one who helped save me."
"Yes. Alexa. I need to talk to you, but not out here on the street. I need to tell you about what happened. Please."
Nodding, Alexa walked to the gate. Holding back the dogs with her voice and one hand as the other hand opened the gate, she allowed her visitor in.
After making sure the kids were safe upstairs in their rooms, Alexa offered Paul coffee. He felt more comfortable on the porch instead of in the house, knowing his hostess felt the same way. A large elephant ear plant shielded the table they sat at from the street.
Benson had disappeared, leaving Paul worried and apprehensive for Alexa, her family, and his family. Having those photos dropped off in his motel room alerted Paul to the possibility that now his family would be targeted once again. Monitoring the street through the broad green leaves, Paul thought of how to start the conversation.
"Alexa, I wanted to find you and tell you I am sorry for what happened. If I had known…"
She looked at him, her dark eyes holding none of the anger he thought would be there. "I tried to tell you, but everything happened in such a hurry. I wish I had told you sooner, then maybe Mama and Papa would be here with us now." She held back the tears by taking a slow sip from her cup. "What made you find me? Surely not just to apologize."
He found he couldn't look at her, not wanting her to see the fire that had been lit by the photos delivered to his room earlier. Finally, he gained control and told his story.
"I worked for the government on special cases, such as yours. The rest of the time, I lived here in the States with my own family. I was a police Captain, father, and husband, and enjoyed each of my roles. One day, the same people who sold your family out to the KGB threatened all three roles. I was framed for a murder that Frank Cooper committed. He later told the truth, along with the fact that there was a third member of the wing who was involved with the assassination plot. Alexa, that third member may be here."
Alexa stopped drinking as she felt her heart skip a beat. She recognized the name Cooper as the man who had called her and set the trap to kill her and everyone else. Now, to find that a third traitor could also be loose and in the city, was too much. "I have to go. Thank you for stopping by." Alexa rushed back into the safety of her house and toward the phone to call her husband.
Paul thought about following her, but realized that would only panic the children. Children…his own children were being watched. The screen door separated Alexa and Paul as he watched her dial the phone. "Alexa, the CIA can protect you. They have men watching now. There is no way Benson can get to you." 'But there is a way he can get to me,' he thought privately, then said, "I have to go. There is a chance that Benson may try and get to you through me. I promise I won't let him. OK?"
Alexa listened to Paul as she held onto the phone. She trusted this man. "All right." She then spoke into the phone as her husband came on the line.
Paul turned to leave, signaling to the agents he knew were somewhere in the vicinity, hoping his plan would work.