Part One

Peter Caine sighed as he looked at the stack of folders on his desk.  Crime seemed to take a holiday during cold spells, and lately, a deep-freeze had descended upon the city.  The young detective supposed he should be grateful that there were fewer victims suffering, but he was too immersed in updating the paperwork of dozens of unsolved cases to take notice right now.

"A bad one?"  A voice interrupted his thoughts.  Mary Margaret Skalany was standing beside his desk, a sympathetic smile on her face.

Shaking his head, Peter smiled back.  "Nah, more of the same.  No new clues.  Basically, I'm looking up each of these files in the computer, then writing  'no new facts'.  It's..."

"Discouraging?" Mary Margaret supplied.  "Frustrating?  Maddening?"

"All of the above," Peter threw down the folder he had in hand and looked over at the clock.  "It appears it's time to go home," he said, with mock surprise.  "Would you like to join Kermit and me at Delancey's for a beer?"

"Hmmm...I would, partner, but..." Skalany grinned, looking at something over his shoulder.  "I don't think you're going to have time."

Peter looked confused.  "What?"

Mary Margaret nodded towards the door.  "You have company."

Turning around, the detective looked.   "Hi Peter!" a dark-haired boy walking his way yelled, waving enthusiastically.  The girl behind him just grinned shyly, eyes shining under straight black bangs.

"I don't see any parents," Skalany sang under her breath, "Ten to one they took the bus."

"From Rosedale?  If they did, it was the *last* bus," Peter groaned, running a hand through his hair.

"And *that's* why you'll be busy," the dark-haired detective said, her eyes merry.

The kids dodged a large biker waiting to be booked and ended up at Peter's desk.  "Hi Peter," Ayaas said again.  "Hey, did you see that guy over there with the pierced eyebrow?  There were seven earrings in it!  Do you still call it an earring if it's not in your ear?  And there was a woman in the front who..."

"Hi Peter," Sophie said, poking Ayaas in the side to shut him up.  "How are you?"

Peter grinned, watching as Ayaas took a deep breath and stuttered to a halt.  "Hi Sophie, Ayaas.  What brings you kids down here?"  In the months since he had met these two, they had stayed friends; dropping into the station every few weeks, having their parents invite him to dinner.

"Well, we have a case and..." Ayaas broke off with a squawk and glared at his friend.

Sophie smiled innocently, putting her foot back on the floor.  "We have some things we wanted to talk to you about."

Peter frowned at Skalany, who had put her hand over her face, trying to disguise an unladylike snort.  "What kind of things?" he asked warily.  Ayaas opened his mouth, looked at Sophie, and closed it.

"Just...things," Sophie said vaguely, twirling her hair with one finger.  "Do you want to go to dinner with us?  We have some money...if you pay for it, we could pay you back later."

"I have to go, uh, talk to Kermit," Mary Margaret said in a strangled voice, jumping up.

Peter dourly watched her hasty retreat, noticing that she had headed down the hall away from the resident computer expert's office.  "Coward," he muttered under his breath.  He turned to the two faces staring expectantly at him.  "Sit down," he said with a sigh.  He watched as Ayaas grabbed one of the nearby desk chairs and plopped down in it, scooting across the floor to his desk.  Sophie perched on the corner of T.J.'s desk behind his.  "Are your parents waiting for you outside?" he asked hopefully.

"Actually, my parents think I'm at Sophie's, and her parents think she's at my house," Ayaas answered absentmindedly, spinning around in the chair.  "Oops," he stopped abruptly, turning red as both Sophie and Peter glared at him for very different reasons.  "Well, we knew they wouldn't let us come see you alone, and we had to talk to you," he explained hastily.

Putting his head in his hands, Peter groaned.  "Why me?"  He looked up.  "Did you tell anyone you were coming here?"  With obvious reluctance, both dark heads moved slowly from side to side.  "How were you planning to get home?"  Ayaas looked at Sophie.  Sophie looked at the ground.

"We were planning to take a cab?" Sophie asked of a particularly interesting spot on the floor.

Peter looked from her guilty expression to Ayaas's studiously wide-eyed innocent one.  "I don't think so.  You just said you don't have enough money for dinner.  You figured I'd drive you home, right?"

Uneasily, they glanced at one another, then nodded.  Peter tried to look stern.  "Do you know how much trouble you could have gotten yourselves into?  Coming into the city alone, without telling anyone?"  He put one hand on the phone, pushing it towards the girl.  "Both of you are going to call your parents right now and tell them where you are."

"But they won't let us stay!" Ayaas protested, yanking on one curly lock of hair.

"We really do need to talk to you," Sophie said softly, meeting Peter's glare.

He looked into the puppy-dog eyes and didn't crack.  "Fine, we'll be in the car as I'm driving you home.  You can tell me then.  But I'm not going to go along with this...this...deception.  What if someone tries to reach you?  They'll be worried sick.  First, you call your parents."

"All right," Sophie said, meekly taking the phone.

Peter turned to Ayaas.  "You're next."

"Okay, okay.  Sheesh!"

********

Part Two

The detective listened to less than a minute of Sophie trying to explain to her mother that she and Ayaas were with him, without telling where she was or how she'd got there.  "Give me that," he finally said, exasperated.  "Hi, Virginia," he said into the receiver.  "This is Peter Caine.  Sophie and Ayaas are here at the precinct with me."  He listened for a minute.  "No, they took the bus.... No, I didn't know. ...That's okay.  I can bring them home...No, I'll wait."

He sat leaning back in his chair, tapping a pencil on the desk, gaze on the kids.  They squirmed, looking everywhere but at him.

"Yeah, I'm still here.   They did?"  Peter frowned, and Sophie peeked over at Ayaas, who shrugged, obviously as clueless about what was happening as she was.  "No, don't change your plans....  I was just going to go home, don't worry about it.....  We can grab something to eat and head out there. ...That sounds fine.  Have fun, and don't worry about us...."  Something must have been funny, because he chuckled.  "Oh, don't worry.  I'll be happy to tell them....  See you soon."  The young man placed the phone in the cradle firmly.  He looked at his two young visitors, waiting.

Ayaas cracked first.  "What happened?  You'll tell us what?" the boy asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Peter looked at them.  "That you're grounded for three weeks, starting tomorrow."  Ayaas's face fell; Sophie looked thoughtful.

"Why not until tomorrow?" she asked.  She tilted her head to the side, waiting for an answer.  Peter shook his head; she was definitely quick.

"You don't give up, do you?" he asked.  "Since your brother is at his friend's house, your parents decided to take advantage of you being gone and go out.  They have tickets to a concert."  The detective turned to Ayaas.  "While I was waiting, Sophie's mother called your mother on her other line.  Since *your* brother is away with his basketball team for the night, your parents have dinner reservations and plans to go to a play."

Peter's voice became serious.  "If you had gone home, no one would have been at either house.  And if I hadn't been here, you would have been stranded in the city with no one to come get you."  He let them think about that for a minute.  From the expressions passing over their faces, he hoped they were thinking about what could have happened.

"Uh, this wasn't the smartest thing we've ever done, was it?" Ayaas asked, chewing on his thumb.

"Nope."  There was a short silence as both children avoided his eyes.

"We won't do it again," Sophie finally assured him.  "We've learned our lesson."

"Um-hmmm..." Peter's reply was deliberately non-committal.  He believed they thought that...until the next time.  Sophie squirmed under his gaze.

"So, if nobody's home, what are we going to do tonight?" she asked, obviously trying to change the subject.  Ayaas sat up straighter, his eyes bright with curiosity.

Amusement filling his eyes, the detective answered.  "We're going to Sophie's house, and I'm going to stay with you until her parents get home."

"All right!" the irrepressible Ayaas cheered.  "Can we stop and get something for dinner?  I'm hungry."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a long discussion about the merits of Mexican versus Thai cuisine, they ended up with takeout pizza at Peter's apartment. Sophie and Ayaas claimed they were too hungry to wait to get home.  They chose Peter's apartment because both children insisted that they had something important to talk about...something they didn't want overheard.

Peter had let Ayaas order the pizza; he was a little dismayed to open the box and find pepperoni, sausage, bacon, black olives and pineapple topping his favorite Italian restaurant's concoction.  Ayaas was eating with enjoyment, but Sophie had a little pile of pepperoni and sausage on the plate in front of her.  Peter wasn't too sure about the pineapple mixed with the other toppings, but it didn't taste any worse than some of the things he made when cooking, so he ate it.  The kids talked about school and their trip to the precinct.

He and Sophie finished before Ayaas.  "So, what was the important thing you wanted to talk about?" Peter asked, starting to clean up the plates and napkins.  He watched as the kids exchanged a look.

"My mouth is full," Ayaas said.  "You tell him."  He took a big bite, chewing with exaggerated mouth movements.

With an irritated look at her partner in crime, Sophie complied.  "After we got kidnapped with you, we went into the detective business ourselves."  She hesitated, studying him through her bangs, to see how he would take the announcement.

"You went into..." Peter repeated.   His head started throbbing as he had a vision of Sophie and Ayaas in trenchcoats following a determined criminal.  "Detectives?"

"We're good ones," Ayaas stated proudly.  "We found out who was stealing money from people's lockers, and who stole the trophy from the office, and that Buzz and Stevie Mayer were the ones painting graffiti on the bathroom walls.  And now we want to find out..."

"I thought I was telling this story," Sophie said, her hands on her hips.

"Oh, yeah.  Sorry."

Peter watched the interplay with a kind of disbelieving fascination.

"We've solved lots of cases, besides the ones Ayaas mentioned.  We even have an ad in the school newsletter," the girl said, boasting just a bit. "Besides what Ayaas told you, we also found out who was shoplifting in the school store.  That's when we discovered the fake money."

"And when we heard that it was found all over town, we decided to find out who was making it," Ayaas said, unable to stop from jumping in.

"Fake money?"  Peter repeated, trying to remember if he'd heard of any counterfeiting cases recently.   Nothing came to mind.  He scowled and held up one hand. "Look, if you two want to be detectives, stick to the school," he said, thinking that at least there, they'd have teachers around.

"Counterfeiting isn't kid stuff," he continued, his tone patient.  "If there is fake money around, it's being made by adults, and I don't want you anywhere near them.  You could end up in a dangerous situation..." Peter closed his eyes, reluctantly picturing the situation they had been in a year ago.

"We're fifth graders now, Peter," Sophie said kindly.  Peter opened his eyes to glare at her.

"Yeah, we can take care of ourselves," Ayaas nodded.  The boy flinched as the glare was transferred to him.  "And anyway, we think it *is* kids," he added hastily.

Feeling like shaking some sense into them, the detective instead shook his head.  "You need special ink, a press, plates, government-made paper...it can't be kids."

"All you need is a computer with a scanner," Sophie said, disagreeing.  "And a really good printer.  And our computer lab has that."

"Mari Lurie told us that her big brother Sam gave her a fifty dollar bill, and it was fake.  So we think he's in on it.  He's in high school, but he comes to our school to teach a computer class."  Ayaas's eyes were shining with excitement.

"Wait a minute," Peter said, his tone sharp. "Let me see if I've got what you're trying to say.   Your friend Mari's brother gave her a bill that was fake, so you think he's making money on a computer in your school?"

"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds dumb," Ayaas said, kicking at his chair.

"Yes, it does."  The young cop sighed, looking at both kids' crestfallen expressions.  He was sure there was nothing to their observation, but...  "Look, to make you happy, I'll check up on these counterfeiters...IF, and only if, you two promise to stay away from Mari's brother.  Do you promise?"

"I promise," Sophie said promptly.  She nudged Ayaas.

"What?  Oh, yeah.  I promise too."

"Good.  Now why don't you get your coats, and we'll head out to Sophie's house."     It wasn't until much later that Peter realized that the kids' agreement had come way too easily...and he actually hadn't made them promise not to go after the counterfeiters.

**************

Part Three

Peter arrived at the station late the next morning.  He slunk over to his desk with a quick look at Strenlich's office.  While he was often late, it was usually somewhat justifiable due to a case.  That excuse didn't apply today.

"Get lost on your way home from Rosedale?" Skalany asked with a smirk.

"Rosedale?" Peter asked, trying to sound like he didn't know what she was talking about.  After turning on his computer, he pulled the stack of files from the day before out of his desk.  With a theatrical sigh, he opened the first folder.

Skalany laughed out loud.  "Rosedale, Peter.  Sophie...Ayaas...no bus...sound familiar?"

Peter scowled down at a copy of an arrest warrant.  "All right," he admitted.  "I brought them home."

"Tell me more..."

"There's no more to tell."

Skalany studied his face and shook her head.  "Come on Partner, I know that face...something's bugging you.  What did they want to talk to you about?"

"I should have known you wouldn't give up either," Peter muttered.  He put down the folder in his hands and picked up a pencil.  He started tapping it almost immediately.  "Have you heard anything about a recent surge of counterfeit bills?" he asked.

Mary Margaret looked surprised at the apparent change of topic, but willingly answered.  "I think so. Fake fifties and twenties...they've been found mostly in the suburbs.  Something came in about it a couple weeks ago, when you were on the Martin case."  She got up and perched on the edge of Peter's desk.  "So...what does that have to do with your little friends?"

Dropping the pencil, he ran a hand through his hair.  "Nothing, I hope.  Ayaas and Sophie have decided that they're qualified to be detectives.  They started out with little cases at school...but now they're after the counterfeiters."

"Peter!"

"I know, Skalany," the tall detective said with irritation.  "It's ridiculous.  There isn't any evidence-their whole theory of proof rests on some kid in their class getting a fifty from her brother, which was fake."

"Yeah, well, if my brother had given me fifty dollars for nothing, it would have been fake too," Skalany remarked, a frown creasing her brow.

The uneasy feeling was back.  Peter shuffled the folders around into different piles on his desk while Mary Margaret watched.  "They think the counterfeiters are operating from the school's computer lab," he burst out.  "It's obviously ridiculous."

"How do you know they're not right?" his partner asked, looking concerned.  "Those kids are way too smart to make up an entire story out of one incident."

"Skalany.  The whole thing is dumb.  Kids wouldn't be involved.  I don't want to talk about it any more.  Don't you have work to do too?" he asked pointedly.

The pretty detective slid off his desk, but didn't go back to her own.  "What if they are onto something?" she asked.  "If you ignore them, can you live with the consequences?"

"I told them counterfeiters would be dangerous...I made them promise not to do any more investigating."  His brow furrowed as something tickled at the edge of his consciousness, but he pushed it away.

"Oh, that'll help," Skalany said sarcastically.  "Those kids listen about as well as you do."

Peter ignored her comment, second thoughts getting the better of him.  "No one could fake bills in the middle of a busy school.  Could they?"  Picking up a pen, he clicked it rapidly.  "I know you have to have special paper and ink, but..."

Mary Margaret smiled.  "Well, our resident computer expert is in.  Why don't you ask him?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Kermit...?"

"I'm busy."  Green glasses reflected the glow of the computer screen.  "Don't you know that a closed door means 'do not disturb'?"

"Kermit, your door is always closed."

The dark-haired man's eyebrows shot up.  "Well, shouldn't that tell you something?"  He sighed and watched as the younger man ignored his best glare, closed the door behind him, and walked across the small office to stand before his desk.  "You're not going to go away, are you?"

"Nope."  Peter looked stubborn.

"Fine."  Kermit turned back to the screen, his fingers flying over the keyboard, ignoring the younger detective  pacing his office.   From past experience, he knew Peter couldn't keep quiet for much longer.

"What do you know about counterfeit bills?"  Peter asked, stopping to pick up a plastic puzzle from the desk.

Resigned to the conversation, Kermit leaned back in his chair, considering.  "Forging money is one of the oldest crimes in the world.  It's also one of the least successful for the majority of the people that try it.  U.S. bills are harder to fake than..."

"I don't want the history," Peter interrupted him.  "I want to know if you know of any are circulating in this area right now, and if kids could make fake bills on a computer that would pass for the real stuff."

"Hmmm..."  Turning back to his computer, Kermit opened a new program.  Peter watched as he typed in a few commands, humming to himself.  Within minutes his face reflected success.  "Bingo.  Counterfeit fifties and twenties...most found in this area in the past three months.  They've connected the bills with some found at a couple ski resorts in New England as well.  These guys are smart...the bills are dated pre-1990..."

"What's so special about 1990?"

"You haven't been paying attention to Inter-departmental Memos," the man in glasses chided.  Peter still looked blank.  "Do you have any money in your wallet?"  Kermit asked with another sigh.  Peter pulled out his wallet with a flourish.  "Look at the dates on your bills.  If you've got one of the new twenties, ignore it."

Patiently, he waited as the younger detective did so.  "The old ones are all 1995 or 1997."

"That's not unusual.  Now hold one up to the light.  See the strip on the left, imbedded in the bill?  It's a security thread-almost impossible to fake.  All of the higher denomination bills since 1990 have that thread."

"Huh," Peter said, staring at the bill.

"And you can't really see it without a magnifying glass, but the outside ring around Jackson's picture isn't actually a line, it's microprinting.  Tiny letters spell out 'The United States of America'.  It's very difficult to copy, the print becomes blurry and indistinct."

"And before 1990?"

Kermit frowned.  "Copiers, printers and scanners weren't as advanced then.  When you copied money, the fine lines and cross-hatching blurred and became fuzzy."

"But today's scanners and printers are better."

"Yeah...which is why the Treasury instituted the new security measures. The stuff on the new bills is amazing."

Peter put the money away and tucked his wallet back in his pocket.  "So it's possible that the fake bills out there could have been made with a computer?"

"It's probable that they were," Kermit agreed.  "That would be why they copied older bills; they tried to avoid the new security measures.  Where are you going with this, Peter?"

Peter was pacing again.  Wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't hear the other man's question.  "Could kids have done it?"

Frowning, the older detective considered.  "Well, I'd say it was highly unlikely.  Even if they had a really good computer, it's difficult to duplicate the texture of U.S. bills."  Turning back to the computer, he scrolled down the screen.  "From the reports here, it looks like the first bills found were on store-bought paper...good, but not the right quality.  The stuff circulating now was forged on specially made paper."  Reaching under his glasses, he rubbed the bridge of his nose.  "It could be that kids started it, but now there have to be some adults involved.  Since they didn't steal it from the Treasury, someone had to have connections to have the special paper made at a manufacturing plant."

"Damn!" Peter said, coming to a halt.  "Can you print out those reports for me, Kermit?"

"Just don't let anyone see them.  You'd have to do an awful lot of explaining about how you got them...and I don't particularly want to have anyone taking a close look at my computer."  The detective pressed a button, and information started printing out.  He looked at Peter's worried face.  "What kids are we talking about?"

"Sophie and Ayaas," Peter said, watching the sheets falling out of the printer.

"Sophie and Ayaas are forging U.S. currency?" Kermit's skepticism was plain.  "What for--lunch money?"

Peter looked up at that.  "No," he said, exasperation tingeing his voice.  "They think they've discovered counterfeiters in their school computer lab.  I didn't believe them at first, but the more I learn...  Well, it does sound like it's at least a possibility."

Kermit looked grim.  "Even if...and that's a big if...kids are making these fake bills, Peter, they've got adult assistance.  Your little friends are in way over their heads.  Did they have any kind of proof?"

"I don't know," the younger detective said, his voice troubled.  "I didn't really listen.  To be truthful, I thought they were making it all up."

"Knowing your persistent little pals, I'm sure they have something to go on.  Are you going to talk to them?"

Peter nodded absently.  "They don't get out of school until this afternoon; if there is something happening at the school, I don't want to meet them there."

"Don't," Kermit agreed.  "There should be some word on the street..."

"Maybe Donny Double D's heard something," Peter said, brightening.  He checked his watch.  "I have plenty of time to find him."

"Good luck kid.  If you need something, you know where to find me."

"Oh yeah. Thanks, Kermit."

************

Part Four

Donny Double D proved relatively easy to locate.  Peter found him at home, cleaning.

"Lula's gone to visit relatives, Pete," he said glumly.  "And I have been charged to keep our abode immaculate."

Peter looked around at the empty pizza cartons, beer bottles and chip bags.  "I don't think you're succeeding Donny," he said with a laugh.  "Did you have a party here or something?"

"A small celebration seemed to be in order," the shorter man said with dignity.  "After all, it is not every day that one's spouse decides to depart, albeit temporarily."  The dignity was somewhat marred by the pink apron wrapped around his waist.

Peter raised his eyebrows and looked around at the mess.

"She's coming back tomorrow," Donny admitted with a sigh.  "You know Lula.  If this place doesn't match her idea of what immaculate should look like, she'll be grabbing my shirt and shouting 'You little weasel!'  I tell ya, Pete...matrimony isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Trying to keep the grin off his face, the detective murmured agreement.

Donny wasn't fooled.  He put down the feather duster.  "You're not here to listen to my domestic dilemma.  What's up Pete?"

The detective removed a cardboard box from the couch and sat down.  "Counterfeiters.  What have you heard about the recent spread of bills in the area?"

Lowering himself into the arm of a chair, Donny shrugged.  "Not much.  I don't know who it is, if that's what you're asking."

"Have you heard anything?  Rumors, whispers, anything?"

With a frown, Donny scratched his chin.  "There was something..." he said slowly.  "When the first batch of bills went around, they didn't fool many people.  Word on the street was that some rich kids made them on their daddies' computers."  He looked alarmed as Peter jumped up and started pacing.  "They looked good, but felt wrong," he explained, trying to soothe the overactive detective.

"Anything else?" Peter asked, his voice tight.

"Nope.  Just that someone was looking for the forgers, in order to make a deal with them."  The snitch flinched at the glare he received.  "The copying was excellent, Pete," he explained.  "If they were done on the right paper..."  Donny looked reflective.  "And I guess they must have found each other."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because Lula received a bogus bill in payment last week at the restaurant.  She knew it was a fake right away."  Donny looked proud.  "Not many people would catch it, but my Lula has an excellent eye."

"And?"

His snitch shrugged.  "And nothing, Petey.  But I looked at it, and I think I would have been fooled.  The paper quality was very close, and the print was exceptional."

Peter ran a hand through his hair.  "And you definitely don't know who's doing it?"

Donny Double D shook his head.  "Wish I could help you, Pete.  But I really have no idea," he said regretfully.

The detective nodded.  "Do me a favor Donny.  Keep your eyes and ears open, and if you do see or hear anything, get in touch with me immediately."

"Will do."

"Thanks."  Peter smiled and pulled out a bill--the same one he had held to the light in Kermit's office.  "Here.  Use this and hire a maid.  We wouldn't want Lula to strangle you when she does get home."

Donny grabbed the bill.  "Hey, thanks Pete!  I'll be in touch."
 

**********************

Part Five

"Peter!  How nice to see you again.  Come on in," Virginia Li said, her dark brown eyes wary as she motioned for the young man to enter.  Dressed in jeans and a sweater, she would have looked at home in a crowd of teenagers in his father's Chinatown neighborhood. Peter had also seen her in a suit, and knew she was a force to be reckoned with in the real estate world.

He stepped in and smiled in greeting as she opened the front door wide.  Behind her, the detective could hear shouting.  From the noise level, there were either several children or two or three very loud ones running around in the back of the house. "Two days in a row though..." Virginia said uncertainly, "did you forget something last night?"

"Hi Virginia.  No, I just need to talk to Sophie.  Is she home yet?"  Peter shook some stray snowflakes off his coat in the foyer and smiled easily at Sophie's mother.

The woman looked uncomfortable.  "Well...no.  I know we said we were going to ground her, but she had a project to finish after school."

Peter's heart sank.  "At the computer lab?  With Ayaas?"

Sophie's mother frowned.  "Yes.  How did you know that?"

"No reason," Peter lied unconvincingly.  Several scenarios flashed through his mind, and he decided he needed more information from the kids before he shared any of his concerns with their parents.  "Listen, I'm going to head over to the school.  You want me to bring them home?"

"They were going to take the late bus, but if the school will let you, sure."  She studied Peter's face and frowned.  "Are you sure that nothing's wrong?  Is Sophie in trouble?"

The detective shook his head.  "Sophie hasn't done anything wrong...I just need to talk to her about something she and Ayaas told me yesterday."

Virginia's lips pressed into a thin line.  "They are in trouble," she said, and with the unerring instinct of a mother went right to the source of the problem.   "It's that silly detective agency thing, isn't it?  Her father and I told her to stop.  Ayaas' parents told him to stop.  She promised me that they'd quit.  What have they done?"

Peter hesitated.  "Virginia, I don't know that they've done anything.  I just want to talk to them."

Sophie's mother folded her arms across her chest.  Her dark eyes flashed with anger.  "I knew it.  There *is* something wrong!  You go get her Peter, and bring her home.  I am going to have a little discussion with my daughter, and then she's going to be locked in her room until she's thirty!"

"Virginia..."

"What are you waiting for?" Virginia Li snapped.  She looked over her shoulder towards the kitchen, where the shouts had become much louder, and were accompanied by the worrying sound of water falling over a distance.  "Go get her...them.  I'd go, but Ben has the Tyler twins over for the afternoon, and their mother is late, and I don't have enough car seats to bring all of them.  Go!"

"I'll be back shortly," Peter promised, amazed at the transformation from pleasant suburban mom to avenging mother.  "Don't worry, Virginia.  I'm sure it's nothing."  In the back of his mind though, something told him that this sentiment was wishful thinking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were few cars in the parking lot.  Peter walked up to the front door, where a large sign proclaimed 'All Visitors MUST report to the front office.'  Ignoring the words, he passed the front office and walked towards the center of the building.  Fortunately, he had visited the school before, and knew the layout.

The computer lab was in the center of the building, attached to the library.  The door was closed and the lights out as Peter entered quietly, alert for any indication of sound or movement.  His glance took in the computers set up around the room, and the lack of people.  None of the machines were on.  Everything looked in order.  A closed door on the other side led to the teacher's office.  Crossing the room in a few quick steps, Peter opened the door.

The workspace was neat...and empty.  Entering the office, Peter checked behind the desk and in the tiny coat closet.  Nothing.  Turning to leave, he saw a glimpse of purple behind the open door.  In one motion, he closed the door and bent down to pick up the backpack behind it.  He swore as he recognized the initials on the bag: SCL.  "Sophie."

The knapsack held only schoolbooks and supplies.  He almost missed the tiny notebook, labeled "S & A Detective Agency" which was tucked into a side pocket.  Leafing through the small book, Peter caught the two papers that slipped out.  A printout of computer files, and half a fifty-dollar bill. "Shit," Peter said under his breath.  He tucked them back into the notebook and put it into his coat pocket.  He zipped the bag closed.

"So where are you?" he muttered, eyeing the office with a detective's eye.  There was a phone on the desk, the receiver not quite in the cradle.  With a sudden surge of hope, he pressed the redial button, and listened as his own voice came over the line.  "This is Peter Caine.  Leave a message."  Quickly, the young cop punched in the code that allowed him to access his messages.  Impatiently he waited through two hang up calls, a message from his cleaning lady, and someone who wanted him to buy the local paper.  Then Sophie's hushed voice came on.

"Peter?  Me and Ayaas are at school.   I know you told us not to, but we have a plan to find out who the counterfeiters are.  We know when they did it, and we're hoping to see who comes to the lab today.  Can you meet us at my house tonight?  We need to show you..."  The girl's voice stopped as the sound of voices came in the background.   "Peter, I think I'm in trouble..." she whispered.   Further noise suggested the phone was dropped, then there was a scraping sound.  Then a beep as Peter's answering machine reached the end of the allotted time for messages.

Peter swore, his eyes searching the office once again.  "What happened to you two?"

*****************

Part Six

Peter dialed Kermit's number at the precinct.  He wasn't quite sure how Kermit rated his own direct line, but it didn't pay to question the ex-mercenary's methods.  If fact, his acceptance of its existence was probably the reason he had been gifted with the number.

"Griffin."

"Kermit, it's Peter.  Listen, did I get any messages there today?"

There was a heavy sigh at the other end of the line.  "Peter, do I look like your answering service?" was the none-too-patient reply.

Despite the situation, Peter couldn't help the quick grin that crossed his face.  "You know you don't.  But I'm afraid something happened to Sophie and Ayaas, and I'm hoping they called there.  Would you ask Broderick and check my desk? "

There was a dark silence from the other end for the space of several heartbeats, before Kermit answered.  "Wait a minute."

The phone was put down on a hard surface with extreme care.  The sound of someone walking away came clearly through the receiver.  Peter waited impatiently, his eyes roaming around the office and the classroom beyond.  In less than a minute, Kermit was back.  "Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"No messages at all.  Some kid called for you, but said he'd leave a message at your home.  Broderick couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl.  That help at all?"

Peter swore.  "No."  After only a moment's hesitation, he decided to share his concern with his friend.  "Kermit, the kids were supposed to be at school, but I haven't found them.  I DID find Sophie's knapsack in the computer lab office.  Inside was a counterfeit bill.  The kids are nowhere in sight, and she left a message on my machine at home that doesn't sound good at all."

"You calling it in?"

"Calling what it?  I don't have anything except two curious kids who lost a knapsack and may be letting their imaginations run away with them."  Frustration filled the young detective's voice.  If there had been anything kickable within range, it would have gone flying.

Kermit's voice was steady and strangely comforting.  "Peter, obviously you think something's going on, and I tend to agree with you.  You also have a printout and half a bill.  Those kids are a handful, but they're not stupid.  What are you going to do?"

Peter took a deep breath, and tried to look at the problem logically.  "I'll see if I can find anything else.  Can you find out whatever you can about who's in charge of the computer lab here?  And maybe look up a kid..." Peter searched his memory, but the name eluded him.  With a wordless growl of disgust, he continued with the name he did remember, "Mari Lurie's big brother.  He's in high school...Steve or Stan or Sam...something like that.  The kids thought he was involved."

"Can do.  You want me to come out there?"

"Give me an hour; I'll call you when I get back to Virginia's.  If the kids aren't home, we'll put out an APB and take it from there.  Thanks Kermit."

"Just remember this next time I ask you for a favor."

"Kermit, you don't ask for favors."

There was a chuckle from the other end.  "Then I guess when I do, you'll owe me big."

Feeling more hopeful, Peter hung up the phone, then dialed his home and listened to the message on the answering machine again, paying particular attention to the background noises.  That scraping sound...looking around the room, the detective tried to see what could have made the noise.  His eyes stopped on the window.  It was tiny, but both Ayaas and Sophie could be small enough to fit through it.  Peter crossed the room and opened the window.  Cold wind blew in, sending a chill through the young man.

There were some scratches across the sill-possibly the kind a kid might make pulling himself or herself through.  And the ground was less than a five-foot drop.  Peter tried to stick his body through the small space, but his shoulders were too broad.  With an impatient mutter, he pulled back, shut the window and turned, planning to go check for anything outside.

Two men filled the doorway.

The taller of the two was standing in front.  He was probably in his late thirties, powerfully built.  Peter didn't often have to look up at others, but this man was taller than him, and built like a linebacker.  Blond hair was neatly arranged in an expensive haircut.  He looked down uncertainly at his unexpected visitor.  The second figure was half hidden behind his bulk; Peter had the fleeting impression of someone with dark hair, shorter but just as burly.

"Hi," Peter said, trying to look less like a cop and more like a confused parent.  "You're probably wondering what I'm doing in here.   I was supposed to pick up my...niece, Sophie here.  Have you seen her?  Are you her teacher?"  Walking towards the door, he stuck out a friendly hand.

From behind the two men, an attractive woman stepped out, holding out her hand with an air of relief.  "Yes I am..." she started, when the shorter man moved pushed in front of her.

"Did you expect to find this kid in the office?" he asked, his tone hostile.  Every part of his body radiated anger and suspicion.  If he had been a suspect, the detective would have arrested him on the spot.  Since he still had no clue as to what was going on, or where his young friends were, he kept up the act.

"No," Peter said easily.  He motioned towards the desk.  "But I did see the phone in here, and decided to call her mother, to see if Sophie ended up at home."

"Sophie's your niece?" the woman asked, her voice cool.  From her assessing glance, Peter was sure that she did know the girl.  Peter knew that most people couldn't see his Asian heritage...perhaps being her uncle hadn't been the best cover story.

"She is.  Uh, wasn't she here this afternoon?"

"She never showed up," the truculent man said, his voice firm.  He stared at the cop.  "She must have gone home."

Peter was sure that the three people in front of him had something to do with his young friend's mysterious absence...but confronting them here, in the school, would do no good.  He had to let them go...so that they could lead him to Sophie and Ayaas.  "Yeah, I guess she must have.  Thanks for your help Mrs..."

"Catherine Wilcox," the woman said, holding out her hand again.  She motioned to the silent, taller man.  "This is my husband, Bob.  And my friend is Mr. uh, Smith."

Peter automatically took Bob Wilcox's offered hand, as 'Mr. uh-Smith' moved past him and into the office.  "Thanks.  If you see my niece, please have her call home."

"Don't you want to give her this?" Smith asked, his voice grating.   Peter turned to look; his heart sank at the sight of the purple backpack dangling from the man's left hand.  In his right hand, he held a gun.

Instincts kicked in as Peter yanked away.  There was barely room for any kind of move...and his arms were awkwardly placed due to the handshake, which had tightened into a firm hold.  He raised his leg for a sidekick.  Wilcox, grasping his hand tightly, recovered from the shock and pulled one way, Peter pulled the other.  Smith reached out and hooked one foot around the detective's anchor leg, and pulled it out from under him.  Both struggling figures staggered, falling to the ground, Wilcox on top.

Peter's air left his lungs in a rush.  Smith calmly stepped on the detective's left arm as his partner tightened his grip on the younger man.  Peter winced.  At the very least, this guy had had some training as a wrestler.

"Who is he?" the teacher asked, watching as her husband kept Peter pinned with his greater weight.

"Not the girl's uncle," Smith said, his eyes narrowed.  Professionally, he patted Peter down.  He stopped when he got to the detective's gun.  "Nice weapon," he commented, tucking it into his waistband.  "Let's see if there's anything that goes with it."  He found the detective's badge in his coat pocket, and snorted.  "He's a cop."

The taller man looked upset.  "But then why would he be here?  Sophie said she didn't tell anyone...  He can't possibly know about the fake money..."

"Shut up, Bob!" Catherine Wilcox snapped, glaring at Peter, still struggling to regain his breath.  Her husband's mouth closed with an audible snap.  All three looked at the young man.

Peter winced as Wilcox resettled his weight, leaning an arm against his throat.  "No, go on," he wheezed.  "Where is Sophie?"  A tiny flutter of hope built in his gut.  He hadn't missed that there had been no mention of Ayaas.  He moved his eyes, since his body wasn't going anywhere, to focus on the woman.  "Your husband's not too bright, is he?  If I hadn't already known about the money, he would have given it away just then."

Wilcox pushed against his already bruised windpipe.  "Are you really the girl's uncle?"

"More importantly, did you tell anyone that you were coming here?" the woman asked, bending over to stare at the detective's face.

Peter ignored the man's question.  "I told my entire precinct," he gasped out, black spots appearing in front of his eyes as he answered the teacher.

Smith smiled.  "Oh, I doubt that.  I think you followed a little girl's clues on the spur of the moment.  Unless...."  Thoughtfully, he studied the two men on the ground.  "Get him up Bob."

"What are we going to do with him?" Wilcox asked, easing off the detective's body.  He got to his feet, and reaching down, pulled the still gasping Peter into an armlock.  The detective tensed, ready to break the grip.  He was distracted by the sense of another person's approach.  He looked past Smith, watching to see if the door opened.  It didn't.

Smith smiled slowly, a carnivore's grimace.  "No one knows where he is."

"Where's Sophie?" Peter asked, his eyes meeting Catherine's.  "All I care about is finding her and getting her home."  He tried to split his attention between talking to his captors and finding the person he felt nearby.

Smith pressed his lips together in an angry line.  "Well, we might be able to handle half of that problem."   With a nod he motioned for the teacher to take the gun.  "Keep an eye on him," he said.

Licking his lips, Bob Wilcox eased his grip and grabbed the gun before his wife could, his hand shaking slightly.  "What are you going to do?" he asked, his voice uneven.

"Take care of our visitor," Smith said, circling behind Peter, his hand moving into his coat.  All the detective's attention snapped to the immediate threat, and he moved with Smith, keeping what he thought to be the greater danger in sight.  It was a mistake.

"Now!" Smith ordered.

There was a blaze of sudden pain, and Peter Caine's world went dark.

*******************

Part Seven

Kermit looked at his watch.  It had been an hour and five minutes since Peter's call.  With a sigh, Kermit picked up the phone.  First he tried Peter's cell phone, but got the message that the phone was either off or out of range.  Scowling, he dialed Virginia Li's number.  Although they had met several times, they were more acquaintances than friends.

"Hello?" Sophie's mother picked up on the first ring.  Not a good sign.

"Virginia?  This is Kermit Griffin.  Is Peter Caine there?"

"Detective Griffin.  No,  No, he's not." Sophie's mother sounded anxious.  "He was going to school to talk to Sophie and Ayaas.  Peter was going to bring the kids home, but..." the woman broke off.  The tone of her voice rose.  "They really should have been home by now.  And even if the school wouldn't let her leave with him, well, the late bus just dropped off kids ten minutes ago, and Sophie wasn't on it."

Behind his glasses, Kermit rubbed at his eyes.  "Virginia, sit tight.  If Peter and Sophie do show up, have Peter call me."  He paused, rethinking that statement.  "If you hear anything, call me on my cell phone."  He gave the woman the number.  "I'll be on my way there."

"What is going on?"

"It'll be easier to explain in person.  Can you call Ayaas's house, and make sure they're not over there?"

"You're scaring me," Virginia said, her breath catching in her throat. "I'm going over to the school."

"No!" Kermit said sharply.  "I'll be there in less than half an hour.  If there's anything that can be done at the school, Peter is doing it.  Sit tight.  They may walk in your front door in the next five minutes."  He didn't believe it, but he needed the woman to stay calm.

He heard her take a tremulous breath.  "Right.  They could have had car trouble or hit traffic or something...."

"Sit tight," Kermit repeated.  "You have my phone number.  Call me if you hear anything."  He hung up and opened his filing cabinet.  Pulling out the Desert Eagle, he tucked it into its resting place.  "Paul, if I had known what a hassle watching the kid was going to be..."  Cursing under his breath, he picked up his coat.

**********************

Part Eight

Ayaas almost cried out when he saw Mrs. Wilcox, his computer teacher, stand by and watch as a man hit Peter on the head with a gun.  Instead, he bit his lip and pulled further back into the ventilation duct.  He had to keep watching and listening.  Maybe he would see something that could help Peter and Sophie...

He scowled at the patterned grate holding him prisoner.  When he and Sophie had decided to spy on the computer lab to see if they could figure out what was going on, they had decided that the ventilation duct would be perfect.  It was big enough to crawl into and sit in comfortably.  There was only one problem--the duct was covered with a fancy grate, which looked like it hadn't, been removed for years.

Sophie had come up with the plan the day they had discovered evidence in the history files on one of the computers.  Each of them had brought a screwdriver and a can of WD-40 from home. For three days, they had gone to class early and, before the other students came in, they had slowly worked on the screws across the bottom and sides. It hadn't been easy; the screws had been stiff and difficult to remove.  Yesterday, they had started loosening the remaining screws across the top and replaced them.  Then, this morning...

~~~Earlier that day...~~~~

"Today, after school," Ayaas whispered as they replaced the last stubborn screw.  Sophie had nodded as Mari, who they had recruited as a lookout slipped into the room, indicating that the rest of the class was about to arrive.  The lesson had seemed to last forever.

It was right after school when they sneaked back into the computer lab.  Everything seemed to happen in their favor...no one was in the hall, no one was in the lab, no one saw them.  Their first problem came when they realized that they couldn't hide in the duct and put the grate back on.

"If we both go in, we can hold it on," Sophie argued, studying the problem.

Ayaas rolled his eyes.  "They'll see our fingers sticking out, Soph."

"No they won't."

"Yes they will."  Ayaas demonstrated.  He stuck his fingers through the holes and wiggled them.

Sophie stared at the grate and sighed.  "Okay, they will," she admitted.  "So how do we decide who stays to spy, and who puts the grate back on?"

"We don't have much time.  Do you have a coin?"  Quickly, Sophie pulled a quarter out of her backpack and threw it in the air.  Ayaas won the toss.  With a smug smile, he tossed his coat and backpack in, then climbed into the duct.  Working together, one on each side, they lifted the heavy grate.  Ayaas held it in place as Sophie replaced the two screws at the top corners.

"Okay.  You go home, and I'll call you," Ayaas commanded, his voice echoing slightly from the metal surrounding him.  "Ooh, I guess I'd better not make a lot of noise," he said, grinning at Sophie.

Sophie scowled at him and balked, returning to his first statement.  "I'm not leaving, unless you're thinking about spending the night."

"What?  No."  Ayaas said, the echo magnifying his surprise.

"So...how were you planning to get out?"

"Oh.  Yeah."  This time it was Sophie's turn to roll her eyes.   "I'm kinda trapped here, aren't I," Ayaas said, his voice uneasy.  "Uh, Sophie, this may be a great plan, but what if something happens?  Maybe we should call Peter, just so he knows what we're doing..."

Biting her lip, Sophie slowly nodded.  "Okay.  I'll call him.  There's a phone in the office."  She started walking away from Ayaas, who was reaching for her through the grate, trying to pull her back with sheer will.

"Sophie, no!" Ayaas hissed.  "Call from the pay phone by the front door."  Angling his wrist, he looked at his watch.  They had been timing the comings and goings from the computer lab all week, and their arguments were cutting into the schedule.  They were cutting it very close.

"We have time," the girl said calmly.  "If I call from the pay phones, someone might overhear me."  Picking up her backpack, she continued into the office, ignoring Ayaas's whispered warnings.

Ayaas couldn't see her from his position.  It seemed to take forever for her to dial the phone.  He heard the quiet conversation, then the sound of a phone clicking into the receiver.  He heaved a sigh of relief, until he heard Sophie talking again.  Who was she calling now, and why was she taking so long?  His head whipped around as the door to the corridor opened; Ayaas held his breath as five people entered the lab.  The first was Mrs. Wilcox, the computer teacher.  The new custodian, a man he'd never seen before, and two high school students followed him.  Ayaas recognized Mari's brother Sam.  The boy stared wide-eyed, and hoped they wouldn't go into the office.

*****************************

Part Nine

Sophie tried to reach Peter, but the person who answered the phone at the 101st precinct said he was out.  She thought about leaving a message, but was afraid the police officer would either yell at her or think it was a joke.  Instead, she hung up and called his home phone.  She was just starting to leave the message when she saw the group walking into the lab.  Momentarily panicking, she dropped the phone and ran to open the window.  Cold air swirled in; the space was not enough for her to get through.  Praying, she looked around the room.  There was no place to hide.  Heart beating rapidly, the girl threw her knapsack behind the open door and tucked herself into the leg space under the desk.  It never occurred to her to just walk out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ayaas watched as the boys moved without a word to the computers at the far end of the room and sat down.   They inserted diskettes into two computers and started pulling up programs as Mrs. Wilcox pulled paper out of her briefcase and inserted it into the first boy's printer.  When paper finished printing, the first boy handed it to the second boy, who turned it over and printed something different on the opposite side.  When the two-sided copy came out, the unknown man took it to the counter and started carefully trimming whatever it was.  Ayaas couldn't see very well, but he could tell it wasn't money.

Mrs. Wilcox and the custodian just stood there, with their arms crossed, talking quietly.  Ayaas strained to hear what they were saying, but couldn't.   What happened next, though, was as clear as day.  "I have to call the bank," the custodian announced, and went into the office, closing the door behind him.

Ayaas crossed all his fingers, including his thumbs.  "Don't let her be caught, don't let her be caught," he whispered soundlessly, over and over.  It didn't work.  There was a wordless sound of rage from the office, when the short man appeared, Sophie's arm was firmly gripped in his large hand.

"Sophie?" Mrs. Wilcox asked, sounding irritated.

"She was hiding in the office," the other man growled.  "I found her under the desk."

"Hi, M-Mrs. Wilcox," Sophie stammered.  If Ayaas didn't know her so well, he wouldn't have heard the slight tremble that gave away her fear.  "I know I'm not supposed to be here, but I wanted to use one of the computers, and when I heard you coming, I guess I just got scared you'd be mad, since I'm not supposed to be here, so I hid in your office."  Ayaas was barely breathing as he willed the men to believe her.

There was a momentary silence as everyone digested the story.  "You're not buying this are you?" the unnamed man asked finally, in an irritated voice.

Ayaas though Mrs. Wilcox sounded angry.  "No," she said.  "I've been hearing some stories about little Sophie and her friend.  Where's Ayaas, Sophie?"

"I don't know," the boy heard his friend say, obviously trying to protect him.  "Why?"  As Ayaas looked on from his prison in horror, the custodian pulled out a gun.

"Because I thought you two were always together," Mrs. Wilcox said calmly, seeming not to see the weapon.  Sophie saw it though, and her eyes went wide with shock.  "You'll just need to come with us."

"What? Why?" Sophie squeaked.

"Well..." Ayaas held his hand over his mouth, trying to keep silent.  Their teacher sounded as calm and rational as if she was conducting a lesson.  She continued.  "If Ayaas does know about this little mission, we may need some leverage.  If he doesn't, then you're on your own.  Either way, it's best for us that you come with us.  Satisfy my curiosity--which is it?"

If Sophie responded, Ayaas couldn't hear it.  "Okay," the custodian growled.  "I don't like kids, and I really don't like you.  So if you know what's good for you, you'll be very, very quiet and walk with me to the car."

"Hey!" One of the high school students said suddenly.  They had been so quiet, Ayaas had almost forgotten they were there.  "You can't do that."

"Really?" the man said his voice deceptively soft.  Ayaas couldn't see his face, but he could see the high school boys.  From their tense expressions, Ayaas could see that they were afraid of the man, whoever he was.  The kid who had spoken looked down at the floor, studying the toe of his shoe intently.  "I think it's time for all of us to go," the man holding Sophie said, when there was no response.  "Pick up your gear, and come with me."

Wordlessly, the teens followed him, leaving Mrs. Wilcox and the taller man alone in the room.  Ayaas watched as the man picked up all the papers and shut down the computers, and left after a short, muffled discussion with the teacher.  The woman walked into the tiny office and pulled the door behind her, leaving it slightly ajar. Ayaas tried to push the grate off.  The screws held.  Grabbing it, he shook it quietly.  It didn't move.  Ayaas whispered something his mother would have made him instantly regret.

He eyed the office door.  There was no indication of movement within, leading the boy to believe that Mrs. Wilcox had sat down at her desk.  Maybe she was correcting the quizzes she had given earlier in the day.  It seemed like a lifetime had passed since then.  Ayaas felt sick; he was trapped.  Perhaps if he kicked the grate...but it would make a huge crash and the teacher would hear it and run out.  He needed to help Sophie, and that meant getting Peter.  Ayaas turned and looked down the ventilation duct. Maybe somewhere else in the school a duct cover was off.

~~~~~~~~~
After too many minutes of aimless crawling down dirty metal passageways with no luck, he returned to the grate in the computer lab just in time to see Peter's confrontation with the computer teacher and the two men.  Watching through haunted eyes, Ayaas vowed not to let them get away this time.

*************************

Part Ten

Kermit pulled into the circular driveway to see Virginia Li, wrapped in a down jacket, waiting for him on the front steps.  She looked as calm and collected as he had ever seen her, watching five-year-old Ben and two identical blond boys pelting her new Volvo with icy snowballs.  "Oh, she's not worried," the detective muttered as he got out of the car.  By the time he swung the door shut, she was standing beside him.

"Did you hear from Peter, Detective Griffin?" she asked, her dark eyes begging him to have some information. "Do you know where my daughter is?"

Kermit shook his head, wishing he had better news.  He had tried his friend's cell phone, only to once again get the frustrating message that the caller was out of range.  "Nothing from Peter or Sophie?  Did you try Ayaas's house?"

Virginia fiddled nervously with the zipper on her coat.  "No, and of course I called.  Noura's worried too...Ayaas was supposed to go directly home after school.  What's going on?"

With a sigh, Kermit prepared to tell her what little he knew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ayaas waited until the door closed behind Mrs. Wilcox and the two men, dragging Peter between them.  Biting his lip, he studied the problem.  Two screws at the top corners held the grate.  That meant...  Ayaas turned around in the vent until his feet were pointed at the grate, then he kicked with all his strength.  His heart leapt as he felt the bottom swing out a tiny bit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kermit glanced in the rearview mirror at the van behind him.  "Is that Ayaas's mother?"

Virginia twisted around to look.  "Yes.  How did you know?"

"The general frantic expression," he answered dryly.  "And the fact that she's trying to pass us on this...road."  That was a polite term for the icy one-way path that wound its way through thick trees towards the school.  He watched at the van sped up and retreated again, the lights flashing.  Since the road was deserted, he stepped on the gas just a bit.

"The school entrance is just ahead on the right," Virginia said, her voice tight.  "The office closes in ten minutes.  She's probably trying to get there before the office staff leave."  She glanced down at the speedometer.  "On this road, you're going fast enough."  Kermit nodded, his tires squealing as he pulled into the drop-off circle in front of the Middle School entrance.  "Isn't that..."

"Peter's car," Kermit finished grimly, eyeing the Stealth parked in the teacher's lot across the street.  "Let's go."  Virginia was already out.

"Noura!" the worried mother shouted to the dark-haired woman who had pulled up behind them.  Ayaas's mother jumped out of her van and hurried towards them.

"Virginia.  After we spoke, I found a note from my son.  He wrote that he was staying after school to work on a project with Sophie."  Her soft voice had a slight lilting accent.  "He also wrote that if he wasn't home on time, I should call Peter."

"Were there any details?" Kermit asked.  "Did you bring the note?"  Both women turned troubled gazes in his direction.  Despite the fact that they were from different cultures and had little in common except for their children's friendship, their expressions were remarkably alike.

"Oh Noura.  This is Detective Kermit Griffin.  He works with Peter.  Have you met?"  Despite the situation, Virginia's flawless manners took over.

"Only once," the second woman answered, as they reached the building. "Thank you for coming Detective."

"You're welcome," Kermit answered, still slightly bemused at all the courtesy covering silken determination.  Once he had told Virginia what he knew, she had spun into action; contacting her husband and Ayaas's mother.  Another round of calls had resulted a neighbor arriving to take charge of Ben and the Tyler twins, whose mother still had not arrived.  She had also set up a telephone tree to contact all Sophie's friends, to see if any of them had any information about what the girl had been doing after school that day.

Not even a missing child could shake Virginia Chan Li's composure.  He could definitely see the family resemblance between her and her brother.  The sardonic Chan was never at a loss, no matter what happened.  He hoped that Sophie, wherever she was, had the same self-possession.  He held open the door as the two women darted into the building, making their determined way toward the office.

The school secretary closing the office didn't know what hit her.

************************

Part Eleven

"I cannot believe that this school is so lax about their closing procedures," Noura said as she followed the secretary down the corridor towards the computer lab.

"It's not that lax," the woman protested, throwing a nervous glance at the set expression on the face of the man walking beside her.  "The teachers close the rooms they're responsible for, and the custodians lock everything up before they leave.  Students are all out of the building by now.  Visitors must check in at the office.  I'm telling you, your children and this detective can't possibly be..."  She swallowed her words with a gulp as the dark glasses turned to look at her.

"Well, they're not supposed to be here," she muttered, picking up the pace a bit.

They were in the corridor leading to the library and computer lab when they heard a rhythmic thumping, followed by a thunderous crash.  Kermit pulled out his Desert Eagle and ran; motioning for the women to stay put.  Virginia and Noura ignored the command, following close on his heels.  The school secretary stopped in her tracks at the sight of the gun.

The door from which the crash had come was locked, but that didn't stop the ex-mercenary.  Without even pausing, he kicked it open.  "Stay there," he snapped at the two mothers, who froze at his command. He stepped through the doorway, his weapon leveled.

Ayaas lay motionless, half in and half out of the duct; eyes wide with panic, positive that Mrs. Wilcox had come back.  He looked towards the kicked-down door, expecting to see one of the counterfeiters.  The last person he expected to see was Peter's mysterious friend.  Their eyes met, and the boy visibly relaxed.  "Anyone else in here?" Kermit demanded, still cautious.  Ayaas shook his head, and Kermit tucked the gun away.

The detective looked from the hole in the wall to the boy, and took in the dust-covered clothing, the dirty face, streaked with what looked like tear stains, the ungraceful sprawl.  No injuries were apparent. "Your mother is right behind me," he warned.  "Where are Peter and Sophie?"

Ayaas flushed red, then the blood drained from his face, leaving him pale as he pulled himself out of the duct.  "Mrs. Wilcox and two men took them away.  I got stuck in here." He scrambled awkwardly to his feet.  "I wanted to stop them, but I couldn't."

Kermit took pity on the bedraggled figure.  "It's better that you didn't.  Tell me what you saw, and the one-oh-one will locate Peter and Sophie.  Much safer..."  He was interrupted by the boy's mother.

"Ayaas!  What happened to you?  Are you all right?  You're a mess!  Where's Sophie?  What have you been doing?"  One worried mother scolded and hugged and breathed a sigh of relief.

The other wrapped her arms around her own suddenly cold body, wishing that they were around Sophie as her daughter's best friend bit his lip and valiantly tried to hold back tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sophie crouched on the floor, studying the figure lying before her. The room she had just been thrust into was dark and cold, but she could make out the shape of his face.  "Peter?" she whispered.  "Peter, wake up."  She reached out one hand to touch the bump on his head.  Her fingers came away bloody.    "Oh, Peter..." she said mournfully as she wrapped her coat around her tightly and settled in to wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"This is highly unorthodox," the woman said, her voice uncertain.  "No one is supposed to use these computers but our faculty.  I think it's illegal..."

"The police are on the way," Kermit replied impatiently, his eyes fixed on the screen.  He made a wordless sound of approval as the record he was searching for came up.  "Mrs. Catherine Wilcox...spouse Robert...address...address...." His eyebrows rose above the glasses as he looked at the listing.  "Don't you confirm your employee addresses?" he asked, looking over at the school secretary.

She looked uncomfortable.  "I don't think so.  Why would we need to?"

"Because it's usually standard procedure to have a residence on file.  Catherine Wilcox's address is a post office box.  Don't you have a home address?"

"Whatever we have is in the file.  She's only been working here a few months.  Maybe she hasn't settled into a new home yet."

Kermit shook his head with disgust.  "What's the custodian's name?" he asked Ayaas, who was standing at his side with his mother.

The boy looked upset.  "I don't know.  He's new though."

"Describe him."

Ayaas shrugged helplessly.  "About as tall as you, brown hair, kinda wide, as old as my dad...he's got a tattoo on his wrist of a skull.  I saw it one time in the lunchroom."

Turning to the secretary, Kermit growled, "Sound familiar?"

"Jim Smith," she answered with a shiver.  "I noticed the skull too."

Turning back to the computer, the detective pulled up the custodian's file.  "What do you know, another P.O. box," he muttered as he printed out both files.

"What are you going to do?" Virginia asked, touching his shoulder for attention.

"Find out where these people are and go get your daughter and my friend."
 

***************************

Part Twelve

Peter groaned as he came back to consciousness.  His head hurt, his mouth was dry, and he had the nagging feeling that there was something he should be doing.  "Owwww..." Painfully, he forced open his eyes and saw a small dark shape huddled against him.  He blinked. "Sophie?"

"Wha...?" the form stirred and moved, pulling away from him.  "You're awake," a sleepy voice noted.

"Yeah.  Are you all right?"  A muffled groan squeezed past his lips as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Uh-huh.  We've got to stop doing this," the girl scolded, pretending to laugh.  She ruined the effect by then throwing herself back against him, sniffling.

Wrapping one arm around her, with the other braced behind him on the rough floor, Peter sighed.  "You're really okay?  Where's Ayaas?  What happened?" More questions crowded into his mind, but a twinge from his aching head made him forget them.

"I'm fine," Sophie said, her voice muffled by his coat.  "I don't know where Ayaas is, but he's probably still stuck in the air duct in the computer lab, unless he figured a way to get out."

"The air duct?"  Peter closed his eyes to recall the room.  In his mind's eye, he could picture the grate near the corner of the room.  Although he hadn't sensed Ayaas's in the room upon entering it...near the end, just before someone had hit him, he had felt a familiar presence nearby.  "I think he was there," the detective said, opening his eyes.  "What, exactly, was he *doing* in the air duct?"

Sophie burrowed against his shirt.  "You'll get mad," she said, avoiding answering.

"No I won't."

"It was *stupid*!  You will."

"Sophie...."

With a sigh, the girl pulled away.  "We found out that the fake money was being made after school by looking at the computer files, but we didn't know who was doing it.  So, we decided to get the grate off that ventilation duct and wait inside and see who.  But when we got the grate off, we found out that we couldn't hide inside unless one of us stayed outside and put it back on."

"You didn't think that maybe it was time to call for reinforcements?" Peter asked, following the slightly confused words and keeping his voice gentle.

The girl shook her head, looking guilty.  She sniffed once and continued.  "So Ayaas got in, and I put the grate on, then went to call you because I was worried, but I used the phone in the office, and then Mrs. Wilcox came in with the kids who help teach us from the high school, and I hid in the office, but that scary new custodian came in and found me." Sucking in a deep breath after the delivery of this rattled-off recitation, Sophie stopped her nervous recounting momentarily.

Peter patted her back comfortingly.  "Go on," he said.  "Did they hurt you?" His voice was calm, but Sophie could feel the tension in the arm around her.

When she spoke again, her voice was low.   "No.  But they made me go with them.  I was going to scream if we saw anyone, but we didn't.  I had to get in the trunk of their car, and then they closed it and it was really dark.  Then they opened it and threw you in."  Sophie shivered, and Peter pulled her back towards him.  "You landed on me," she said accusingly.

"Sorry, sweetie. Then what?" he encouraged.

"It's okay.  I was glad to see you, even if..." the girl said in a tiny voice.  She paused, taking a deep gulp of air, then continued.  "They drove for awhile, and stopped.  Mrs. Wilcox opened the trunk, then her husband and the other man picked you up, and shut the trunk again.  Then the other one came back for me and put me in here with you. I was waiting until you woke up, but I guess I fell asleep."  She sighed deeply, and in the dim light, Peter saw her breath hanging in the air.

Peter looked past the girl into the darkness beyond.  Dim light from a bare bulb above them didn't quite reach the shadowed walls.  "Where are we?"  He shivered as he noticed the coldness of their prison.  Now that his eyes were adjusting to the dim light of their surroundings, he saw stone walls, a few boxy shapes, and a flight of stairs leading up.  At the top landing, thin slivers of light indicated that someone was on the other side.

"It's a cellar," the girl said, as Peter figured it out.  Sophie followed his gaze up the staircase.  "No one has come in since they left us," she said.  "I've heard people moving around though."

"Great, first an attic, now a basement," Peter said, referring to their last prison.

"Maybe next time we'll be in the regular house."

With a crooked grin, Peter said,  "I don't know about you, but I'm hoping there won't be a next time."  Grunting, he pushed himself to his feet and began walking around the basement, Sophie trailing behind him.

**************************

Part Thirteen

The Rosedale Police Department was thorough, just not...inspired.  Kermit kept one eye on them as they interviewed Ayaas.  They were still at the school, where detectives were gathering evidence from the computer lab, the office, and the small locker Jim Smith used to store his personal effects.  So far, nothing had been uncovered.  No one knew where the teacher or the janitor lived, and the kids with then had not yet returned home.

 Kermit had retrieved his laptop computer from the car, and had it plugged into a phone line.  He was searching in a different way for any trace of the counterfeiters.

"Have you found anything?" Virginia Li's worried face studied the tapping fingers and rapidly changing screen.

Kermit looked up from his highly illegal search of phone records.  "Not yet.  These people are professionals.  They used post office boxes and cell phones, all of which were purchased in the last three months. They didn't leave a trace."  His grim words seemed to strike the woman with physical force.  "Don't worry," he said, his voice softening.  "We'll find them."

"Maybe Mrs. Wilcox will come into school tomorrow," Ayaas suggested, obviously freed from his interviews.  "And we...you can catch her and make her tell us where they hid Sophie and Peter."

"Maybe," Kermit said, his voice noncommittal.  He didn't want to crush the boy's hopes, but that would be too easy.
 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Couldn't we break a window and climb out?" Sophie asked, craning her neck to see the recessed windows.  "We could fit through there."  She looked at Peter critically.  "Well, you probably couldn't.  But I'd go and find a phone or something."

Peter was making his way around, taking in everything.  For what seemed like a very old basement, there were very few objects in it.  The Blaisdell basement was full, with everything from winter sleds to gardening tools to a carpenter's bench.  This place held a furnace, a hot water heater, a couple moldy chairs, and a box of old seeds.  It hadn't been recently cleaned, so their "hosts" probably hadn't cleaned it out especially for them.

Looking up at the windows that Sophie had pointed out, Peter could see that they were boarded over.  If he could pry away the boards...if he didn't make too much noise...if Sophie could get through...  Too many ifs.  There had to be an easier way.  He leaned against the hot water heater to think, and relaxed against the heat.  "If you're cold, come stand close to this," he said to Sophie, who promptly moved closer.

"Nice," she sighed, leaning against the tank and closing her eyes with pleasure as warmth permeated her shivering body.  She could almost pretend she was out in the sunshine.  Almost.

"Yeah," Peter replied absently, his mind already turning over a plan as his eyes moved from the hot water heater, to the furnace, to the fuse box mounted on the wall between them.  A slow grin covered his face.  "Do you think you could put up with the cold just a little longer?"

Sophie's eyes flew open.  "You've got a plan!" she exclaimed with delight.

"I do."  The detective looked at his watch, slightly surprised that it was still on his wrist.  "But it's too late to do it now.  We need other people to be awake."

"Why?  What are we going to do?"

"You'll see."

********************************
 
 

Part Fourteen

It had been a long tense night, and the day didn't look any better.  Whoever Jim Smith, Robert and Catherine Wilcox were, they had covered their tracks well.  The phone numbers listed were cell phones; any addresses were non-existent.  The Rosedale police had men posted in the school to arrest the suspects if they showed up for work this morning.

Kermit bent over his computer.  The detective frowned as he banged away on the keyboard, Virginia staring at the screen from behind him.  Except for making a few phone calls, she hadn't left his side since the ordeal had begun. Sophie's father was somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, flying home from a business trip he had left on early the previous morning. Although Noura and Ayaas had wanted her to come home with them, she wanted to stay where she could find out the most recent information on the search.

"Anything new?" she asked anxiously.  As she absentmindedly sipped from the mug in her hand, the detective noticed a slight tremor.  <Too much caffeine or nerves?> he wondered.  Whatever it was, she didn't let it affect her attention to what was happening.

"Not yet."

"What's that sound?"  Virginia asked as a muffled ringing came to her ears.  It seemed to be coming from the jacket Kermit had tossed on the desk beside him.

"My cell phone." Kermit scowled at the interruption, but pulled his attention from the computer to answer the phone.  "Griffin.  This better be important."

Skalany's voice came over the line.  "Kermit?  I'm at Donnie Double D's place.  He says he has some information for Peter about the counterfeit bills.  I convinced him to talk to you."

"Put him on," Kermit growled, relieved that it wasn't the bad news he feared. "Donnie?"

Donnie's voice crackled over the connection.  "Detective Griffin, long time, no see.  Dawn is not the ideal time for a conversation, Lula..."

"Cut the social crap and tell me what you've got.  Peter's missing."

"So the beautiful Detective Skalany tells me."  The phone crackled, and Donnie's voice lowered.  "Peter asked me yesterday if I could discover anything about the elusive creators of bogus currency."

"And?" Kermit asked impatiently.  The snitch was good, but getting information out of him was like pulling teeth.

"I was able to ascertain that an acquaintance of mine delivered some specialized paper a few weeks ago to a location approximately 50 minutes from the city."

"Do you have an address?"

Donnie hesitated, sounding apologetic.  "Well, that is the problem.  My acquaintance is not the sharpest knife in the drawer.  He can't remember the address, or even the town.  He does remember that it was north of the city, and just before he turned off the highway to go through the town streets, he passed a pond where kids were ice-skating.  A real pond, not one of those man-made places."

"That's it?" Kermit growled, wishing he had the snitch in front of him.  Sometimes a little intimidation forced greater details into a person's memory.  "Can your acquaintance look back on his delivery schedule?"

From the gulp on the other end of the line, maybe intimidation didn't have to be in person.  "It wasn't a...uh...sanctioned delivery," the snitch admitted.   "No records.  I'm sorry, Detective...Pete's my friend too.  I'll see if I can find anything else."

Kermit grunted.  "You do that, Donnie."  He hung up.

"Who was that?" Virginia asked eagerly.  "Did they have any new information?"

With a grimace, the man shook his head.  "A long shot.  Do you know of any skating ponds in Rosedale, near a highway?"

Virginia frowned in thought, biting at her fingernails.  "You mean, a natural pond where people skate?  Is it important?"

"Maybe."  Kermit waited.

The frown grew more pronounced as the woman searched her memory.   "Last winter Sophie went to a skating birthday party in Springfield.  That was at a natural pond, and I think it was near the road.  I think there's another one over in Dover."  Virginia shook her head in frustration.  "I brought my son and his friends to an ice hockey game in Greenfield at an outdoor rink last month.  I can think of at least half a dozen others in the area!  What do they have to do with Sophie?"

Kermit explained Donnie's call.  While Virginia got out a pen and started writing down all the ponds she could think of, the detective walked to his office door.  Spotting Blake sitting at his desk, he made a 'come here' gesture.  Blake, looking uneasy, got up.

"Yes, Kermit?"

"Get on the wire.  Find out if there has been anything...strange...reported since yesterday afternoon anywhere in the area."

"Strange how?" Blake looked blank.

"You know Peter.  If it's possible, he'll do something to attract attention.  If you find something, check and see if the community has a pond where kids skate."

"A pond?"

"Yes, Blake.  A pond.  Don't ask questions, just do it."  Kermit said irritably.   The older detective nodded once and returned to his desk.  Kermit was gratified to see him promptly pick up the phone and start calling.  He sighed as he turned back to his computer and the worried mother in his office.

*****************************
 

Part Fifteen

"Sophie?  Wake up."  Peter shook the girl and wondered at her ability to fall asleep under these circumstances.   She yawned and opened her eyes, the detective saw awareness fill them as she remembered the events of the past day.

"Is it dawn already?"

"Yeah, almost.  You awake now?"

Sophie winced and sat up.  "Yeah.  Brrr..."  She wrapped her arms around herself and huddled down into her coat, watching her breath hang in the air.  "It's cold."  She grinned suddenly.  "They're gonna be soooo pissed when they wake up.  How come I'm still kinda warm?"

Peter almost laughed at her expression.  "I turned off the furnace, but the hot water heater was on a different circuit...so I left it on.  You were pressed against it so hard, I thought you'd stick to it," he teased.

While they waited, they once again went through the contents of Sophie's knapsack, which had been thrown in the basement with them.  Last night, it had yielded a candy bar, which they had shared for supper.  A pack of bubble gum substituted for breakfast.  Sophie tried to impress Peter with her bubble blowing skills, popping a huge one over her nose and cheeks.  Peter's smile at the mess she had made died as she turned wide, worried eyes in his direction.

"They're awake."

The young detective had also heard the sounds of movement above them.  Moving quickly, he pulled Sophie to her feet and led her into place under the staircase.  "Now, you stay right there until I say it's safe.  Understand?"

Sophie nodded solemnly.  Still, Peter hesitated.  "Promise?"

The words came reluctantly, accompanied by a scowl.  "I promise."

"I know how well you listen," Peter said, trying to get one last smile from her before putting their plan into action.  Her lips quirked up; he took it as a sign of success.  "Stay there," he warned again, returning to the fuse box.

Upstairs, the sounds had increased.  Faintly, Peter could hear an angry voice shouting.  Reaching out, he could sense people rushing down stairs.  Not close enough to be directly overhead, they had to be moving from the second floor to the first.  Holding his breath and hoping that whoever was coming had turned on lots of lights behind them, Peter reached in and flipped the circuit breaker...off, on, off, on, off, on...  In rapid succession he blinked the electrical current to the house...short flash, short flash, short flash...pause...long, long, long...pause...short, short, short...  He repeated the distress call known all over the world three times before the noisy rattle of key in the lock and the angry voice opening the door made him flip the breaker off permanently.

Sophie whispered something he didn't understand from where she was tucked into as small a ball as she could manage under the open staircase.  Peter moved into position as the sound of heavy footsteps filled the sudden darkness around them.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, cop?" an angry voice demanded.  "Playing with the lights, turning off the furnace, all you're doing is making me mad.  Catherine!" the man bellowed from halfway down the stairs, "Bring me a flashlight!"   Peter recognized Smith's voice as he growled menacingly, "You don't want to make me mad, cop!  Turn on the lights and get to the bottom of the stairs, right now."

Instead, Peter silently reached out and grasped their captor's bare ankle.  He yanked, and Smith came tumbling down the last half of the stairs, his arms windmilling as he tried to regain his balance.  A shiny black object flew from one hand and went flying.

Peter pounced on Smith and landed a punch to his stomach that knocked the wind out of the other man.  In reaction, the kidnapper flailed his arms, landing a lucky but still powerful blow to Peter's nose, which promptly went numb before painfully regaining feeling.  The detective gasped and involuntarily moved backward, pressing his coat sleeve to stop the bleeding.  Smith pressed his advantage, despite the younger man's weight pinning his legs to the floor.   Moving forward, he struck out blindly, raining blows on Peter's head and shoulders.

Grunts filled the air as the heavier man swung repeatedly.  Peter heard a squeak from Sophie as he tumbled backwards and the combatants hit the staircase.  The girl's voice reminded him that he was not alone, he had someone relying on him for help.  With renewed determination, Peter grabbed an arm and rolled sideways, sending Smith flying over him to hit the wall.  While the man was gasping for air, he tried the nerve pinch he had seen his father use.  To his surprise, it worked.  Smith sagged to the ground.

"Jim?" a woman's voice called, and a flashlight beam cut through the darkness, illuminating the empty stairs.  "What is going on?"  The desperate fight had lasted only seconds.  Pulling in a deep breath, Peter surged up the stairs, trying to avoid the narrow tunnel of light.  The computer teacher stood in the doorway, looking down into the darkness.  "I've got a gun," she announced in a cool voice. "You turn on the lights right now, or I'll start shooting.  Jim?"

Peter was blinded as the flashlight caught him full in the face only two steps from the top.  Closing his eyes, he threw himself at the light.  There was a shriek as he knocked the woman off her feet.  The flashlight flew out of her hands and bounced down the stairs, landing with a crunch of breaking glass.

"Get off me!" she shouted, pummeling his back with mercifully gun-free hands.  She had grabbed a blanket to keep warm, and with it wrapped around her, movement was limited.  Peter rolled over and pinned her to the floor.

"Where's the other one?"  he gasped.  "Your husband?"

"He's coming!" she said.  "With all this noise, he'll be here in just a few seconds.  And he does have a gun."  Her tone was calm and collected...and all the more worrisome because of it.

Peter hauled the woman to her feet and roughly guided her down the cellar stairs.  "Sophie, get up there!" he called.  As the girl ran past him and up the stairs, Peter grabbed the blanket and wrapped it securely around the teacher, temporarily pinning her hands to her sides.  When he was certain that her range of motion was limited, and would stay that way for a few seconds, he ran up the stairs and slammed the cellar door shut, turning the key and throwing the bolt.  For good measure, he pocketed the key.

"Where's the other guy?" Sophie asked, searching the grayness.  They could see better up here, daylight was approaching and the faint hint of dawn crept into the room.

"I don't know.  Let's go."  With one hand stopping the blood flow from his nose, and the other holding her hand, he led the way through the kitchen and to a door that looked like it might lead outside.  They were lucky; it did.   Peter looked around for other houses, but woods surrounded them.  There were no neighbors in sight.  A car was parked outside the door, outside a closed two-car garage.

"That's the car they brought us here in," Sophie declared.  "What do we do now?"  She gasped as over their heads, the porch light went on.  Looking back over her shoulder, the house was lit up.

"Get in the car," Peter ordered tensely, pushing her ahead of him.  It was too cold to run through the woods with no idea where they were going, and who knew if people would open their doors to two strangers at the crack of dawn, even if they could find neighbors?  Luckily, the car doors were unlocked.  They climbed in; Sophie buckled her seatbelt while Peter reached under the dash and pulled out a group of wires.

"You know how to hot-wire a car?" Sophie asked, impressed.

"A little-known fact of my misspent youth," Peter gasped, connecting the right wires together.  The car started with a roar, and he threw it into reverse, just as the kitchen door opened and both Smith and Bob hurtled out.  Sophie screamed as Bob jumped on the hood of the car.  Peter said something he knew he would regret later and stepped on the gas.  The car hurtled down the driveway, backwards, with Bob clinging to the hood.

************************
 

Part Sixteen

"Kermit, you wanted to know of anything peculiar..." Blake said, framed in the open office doorway.

The detective's eyebrows lifted, and he pushed away from his computer.  "You've got something?"

Blake pushed his glasses up.  "Well, yes.  A house flashing an SOS."

Virgina jumped to her feet.  "Where?"

Glancing down briefly at the paper in his hand, Blake continued. "Uh, Springfield.  Apparently, about ten minutes ago, a resident along the shore of Silver Lake reported that the lights in a house across from them started blinking a Morse Code SOS pattern.  You know, dot-dot-dot, dash..."

"I know," Kermit interrupted.  "ON the lake?"

"Yes.  And the other end of the lake is used..."

"...as a skating pond by the local kids." Kermit finished for him.  "Is it off the highway?"  At Blake's nod, the younger detective rose to his feet, opened the top drawer of his filing cabinet and took out his gun.  Virginia's eyes were wide as she looked down at the weapon that dwarfed the detective's hand.  "You're right, that does sound peculiar.  What's more, it sounds just like Peter.  What are you waiting for, Blake?  Let's go."

Virginia grabbed his sleeve.  "I'm coming with you."

Kermit gently removed the hand, and looked at her regretfully.  "I'm sorry, but you can't."

"She's my daughter..."

"I know, but this is a police case.  I can't put you in danger, especially when we're not even sure this is connected to Sophie and Peter. We'll call you when we find out what's going on."  Walking into the main room, he motioned to Roger Chin.  "Stay with Detective Chin.  He'll stay in touch with us."  Leaving the protesting mother in the capable hands of Chin, Kermit walked rapidly toward the front door, Blake trailing behind him.

"You warned the locals?" Kermit asked as they hurried to his green Corvair.

"Yes," Blake replied, watching somewhat nervously as Kermit, moving with controlled precision placed a light on top of the car.  Hurriedly, he buckled himself into place.  "I told them we suspected a connection to our kidnapping."  He gasped as Kermit suddenly pulled out of the lot and into the street.  The storefronts passed in a blur as they roared down the road, siren wailing.  "Kermit," he choked out.  "We can't help Pete if we get killed on the way."

Kermit bared his teeth in a fierce grin.  "We'll get there in one piece.  Come on, Blake.  Have faith."  He stepped on the gas and blew by a line of traffic.

Closing his eyes, Blake began to pray.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sophie screamed as they hurtled down the curved, dirt driveway.  "He's got a gun!" she cried.  Peter whipped his head around to see Bob, his fingers curled around the crack where the hood ended, trying to point a gun...his Baretta...at the windshield.

"I don't think so," Peter said grimly, stepping on the brake.  The car stopped, but Bob didn't.  Losing his grip, he flew off the car, sliding up the windshield and off the roof.  He landed with a thud on the side of the driveway.  "I hope that hurt," Peter muttered as he backed rapidly onto the road and spun the car.

"Do you know where we are?" he demanded.  Sophie shook her head, her face white.  "Okay, this way looks good."  They set off down the road, going too fast.  Sophie shrunk down in her seat.  Peter's hands moving expertly on the steering wheel, anticipating the twists and turns, even as he checked the rearview mirror.  Sophie squeaked as they skidded around a sharp curve.  "Hang on," the detective told her tensely.  "Sooner or later we have to come to a main road."  Unfortunately, he thought it was probably in the opposite direction.

The road seemed to be narrowing, the trees leaning in closer.  He told himself it was his imagination, but he knew it wasn't.  It wasn't a good sign that they hadn't met any other cars...and the driveways seemed to be few and far between.  Peter thought about driving up to one of the houses, but regretfully decided that it wouldn't be a good idea.  If Smith and Bob were following them, they'd end up putting someone else in danger.  In addition to that, he wasn't sure that anyone would be in any of the houses...the driveways looked unused...the whole area had the feeling of vacation homes, left unused in the dead of winter, which meant no electricity or phones.

Another corner...and Peter's heart dropped to his stomach.  A large eight-point deer froze in the middle of the road, directly in front of the car.  "Shit!" he swore, instantly pumping the brakes and wrenching the wheel around in an attempt to avoid the animal.  Sophie shrieked as the car spun out of control.  Fighting the wheel in an attempt to bring the car around, Peter felt the tire slip off the side of the road, and knew they were going to crash.

***************************

Part Seventeen

For the second time in 24 hours, Peter Caine awoke with a splitting headache and something sticky running down his face.  He opened his eyes slowly.  The world was tilted.  He blinked, and realized that it was the car that was tilted.  With a gasp, he pulled his sprawled body upright and looked at the passenger seat.

Sophie was still held against the seat with the seatbelt, her eyes closed.  She didn't appear to be injured, but her eyes weren't open either.  His heart dropped painfully as he caught his breath.  Reaching out, he gently touched the girl's shoulder.  "Sophie?" he asked.

"Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow..." she moaned, pulling away from his touch.  The detective sighed in relief, thankful that she was still alive.  "What happened?" Sophie asked groggily.

"We went off the road," Peter said grimly, surveying their surroundings.  "How do you feel?"

She looked at him, her eyes wide, pupils dilated.  "It hurts."

Worry crawled along his spine.  "Anywhere specifically?" he asked carefully, anxiously looking over what he could see of her.

"Nooo..." she said doubtfully, moving her arms and legs carefully.  One cautious hand rubbed her temple.  "No, just kind of all over."  Panic filled her expression as she looked at him.  "You have blood all over your face.  Are you all right?"

Relief made him grin.  "I'm fine.  What's a little bloody nose?" He answered evasively, knowing she couldn't see the reopened cut on his head.  Sophie weakly smiled back.  "Look, we've got to get out of here...can you move?"

She nodded, then winced. "Is the car...tilted?"

"Yeah, we went into the ditch."

"Oh good.  I thought it was me."

The detective almost smiled.  "No."  He considered their position.  The tires on the right side of the car had slipped off the road and lost contact with the pavement.  Resting on the chassis, they had slid along the dirty buildup of sand and winter debris on the shoulder, then slipped over into the ditch, coming to a stop with the door on the passenger side resting against the earth.  Peter's door was up in the air.  "Can you undo your seatbelt?"

"Uh-huh."  Sophie reached down to push the button.

"Wait!"  The girl froze, waiting.  "I don't want you to fall," Peter explained.  "Take my hand."  As she did so, Peter rolled down the window.  When he had a firm grip on Sophie's hand, she pushed the button, and Peter lifted her over him and through the driver's window, wincing as her disappearing foot brushed against his temple.  The car rocked ominously. "Are you out?" he asked, as her feet cleared the window.

"Yes," she called back.  "Do you want me to help you open the door?"

Peter appraised his predicament and sighed.  From the dent in the panel beside him, he doubted it would be possible to open the door, and while he could fit through the window, tight squeeze would be putting it mildly.  But his options were limited; he would have to fit through the window.  Deciding to use the emergency brake and steering wheel as steps, he started to lever himself out, but stopped.

It might be too much to hope for, but...  Reaching over, he opened the glove box and pulled out everything it contained.  With surprised pleasure, he pulled out a small Derringer, the type sold to hide in a woman's purse or pocket.  Tucking it into his coat pocket, he rifled through the remaining items.  Nothing else seemed useful.

He put one foot on the emergency break and held his breath, wincing as his ribs protested.  Slowly he rose through the window.  Sophie grabbed one elbow and started pulling as soon as his arm cleared the car.  She wasn't really helping, but Peter didn't have the heart to tell her that.

They were both breathing hard once he got out, frozen vapor hanging in front of their faces like ghosts.  "Now what?" Sophie asked breathlessly.

"We find a house and call the precinct," Peter answered, looking down the road.  It didn't look any more welcoming than it had from the car.  He had hopes that the next driveway would show signs of occupation, but he was in the mood to smash a window if it wasn't.  It was too damn cold, and they had taken too much pounding in the last few hours to waste time.

"Do you think they're still chasing us?"

Peter hesitated, thinking.  "I don't know," he answered, reluctantly.   "Probably not, since they didn't show up at the accident, but it's worth being careful.  Are you warm enough?  Can you walk?"  He looked at the girl anxiously.

"Yeah, and yeah," she said, obviously lying through her teeth about the cold as she pulled her hands up into her coat sleeves and shivered.  "I'm fine.  Which way do we go?"

"This way," the detective said, leading the way down the road in the direction they had been headed.  "Backtracking is too dangerous.  We need to get moving, so..."

"Let's go," Sophie said, heading down the road with determination.  Peter smiled and walked on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kermit pulled into the driveway of the house that had flashed the "SOS" signal.  Two cruisers were in the driveway.  Beside him, Blake was still shaking in reaction to the 25-minute drive that would have normally taken 45 minutes.

Blake cleared his throat.  "The locals are keeping her talking until we get there."

The dark detective nodded.  "Let's go join the party, shall we?"  He checked his gun and tucked it into its hiding place.  They both climbed from the car and walked toward the house, where a uniformed officer was shivering, waiting for them.

"Detectives Blake and Griffin?" he asked, holding out a hand.  "I'm Lieutenant Brooks."  As they shook his hand in turn, murmuring assent and flashing their respective badges, he nodded towards the house.  "The woman inside says her kid was playing with the switchbox.  There is a teenager who says he did it, but..." the officer hesitated.   "Well, the kid looks terrified.  He won't say anything else, just that he did it and he's sorry.  There doesn't seem to be anyone else in the home...not that we've seen anyway."

Kermit nodded grimly.  "If she's our suspect, she has two adult male cohorts.  There are also two hostages we know of-our detective and a young girl.  The kid is probably one of the two missing teenage boys who may be unwilling accomplices.  Have you searched the house?"

Brooks shook his head.  "We looked in the basement, where the electrical box is, to confirm that there wasn't someone signaling.  It's empty.  Without probable cause, we really can't search the place.  If you can identify her as your suspect, that's another story..."

"Let's go then."  Kermit strode up the steps, not waiting to see if they were following him.  Entering the house, he turned towards the voices coming from the left.  Sitting in a comfortable couch was the poised figure of the woman he had seen, until this moment, only in photographs.

Catherine Wilcox was a superb actress; she looked exasperated and anxious, one hand tightly gripping the hand of the teenage boy sitting beside her.   The boy was pale, his dark hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, dark circles under blue eyes which kept darting anxiously between the woman beside him and the officers seated in the two chairs pulled up in front of the couch.

Kermit came to a halt in front of the couch.  His eyes took in the scene.  The kid was definitely on of the teens they were looking for; his gaze moved up from the teenager's white fingers to the woman's face.  She sighed elaborately.  "Another officer?  My son has admitted to being the culprit!"  With an embarrassed laugh, she gestured around the room.  "Don't you think this is overkill?"

"You tell us, Mrs. Wilcox," Kermit said, his face impassive.

There was an almost imperceptible narrowing of her eyes.  "My name is Snyder.  Elizabeth Snyder.  I don't know what you mean."

The detective turned to one of the uniformed officers.  "Cuff her."

"What?" the woman said, dropping the kid's hand and jumping to her feet.  "I have no idea what you're talking about.  My son was playing with...

Kermit sighed.  "I'm sure you don't.  Catherine Wilcox, you are under arrest for the kidnapping of Sophie Li and Peter Caine, and for counterfeiting."  He nodded to Brooks. "It's her.  Read her her rights."  Brooks grabbed the woman and pulled her hands behind her back as one of the uniformed officers read her the Miranda off a small card.  Kermit waited impatiently to question the suspect.

Blake cleared his throat.  "Kermit..."  Green glasses turned to the older detective, who nodded at the forgotten teen.

With interest, Kermit surveyed him.  The kid was shaking, huddled into the corner of the couch, arms wrapped around pulled up legs.  Not the body language of a conspirator, but that of a frightened child.  "Arrest him too," Kermit said impatiently, watching for a reaction.

"Wait!"  The kid looked up, panic spreading across his face.  "My friend.... Sam is upstairs.  SHE locked both of us in a closet last night.  She came and got me just before the cops came.  She said if I didn't say I flashed the lights, she'd kill both of us."

"Shut up, Dan!" the woman snapped, over the voice of the officer.  "You're part of this too."

"What about my friend?" Kermit grated, leaning down.

The boy gulped, pulling away from the man.  "I don't know who your friend is, but they put Sophie and the guy who came to get her in the basement."   When Kermit turned and headed for the open door of the basement, the teen called him back.  "I think they got away."

"What makes you say that?" Blake asked.

Dan looked around nervously.  "Because THEY aren't here."

"'They' being..." the older detective asked, wanting to shake the kid for more than this trickle of information.

"Mr. Wilcox and Mr. Smith," he answered, looking around as though they might be ready to jump on him at any second.  "They were here when the lights were flashing.  Sam and I heard them yelling.  The closet is right at the top of the stairs.  They were yelling, then the door slammed, then a car left.  Then there was more yelling, and another car left.  I think they must have followed your friend."

"What else do you know?"

The boy looked up into the shades hovering over him.  "Not much.  SHE came up and got me right after that, and told me what to say.  The cops arrived within a few minutes."  Dan shook his head.  "They haven't come back, so they're probably still chasing them."  He shivered.  "I really hope they don't catch them."

"Why?"

Dan looked ill at the thought.  "Because..." He stopped and inhaled rapidly.  "Because THEY wouldn't be satisfied with just killing them."  He looked up, blinking sudden tears from his eyes.  "Can I go home now?" he asked wistfully.

***********************************************

Part Eighteen

"It's been at least a mile," Sophie said, stopping wearily in the middle of the road.  "I don't think there's anything else this way."

Peter turned to look at her, wishing his head didn't throb so much with the motion.  Her shoulders drooped, her lip trembled, and he could sense an almost imperceptible shiver running through her body.  She didn't look like she'd make it much further.

"It's only been half a mile," he said, trying to encourage her.  "I'm sure that there must be a house just around the bend."  Her lower lip quivered.  "Do you want me to carry you?"  He winced internally at the thought of adding even her slight burden.  The truth was, he had hit the steering wheel hard in the crash, and from the way his ribs felt, they were badly bruised.

Luckily for him, Sophie looked horrified.  "No!"

Peter sighed with relief.  "Let's keep going then." They walked in silence for a few minutes.

"But shouldn't there be some sign of houses along this road?" Sophie asked, looking sideways at Peter and then at the tall trees on either side of them.

He was trying to decide how to answer without alarming her when they heard the sound of car approaching.  "We're rescued!" Sophie announced, perking up immediately.  Peter wasn't so certain.  Despite his pounding head and aching ribs, he grabbed Sophie's arm and pulled her swiftly up a bank and into the woods.  She stumbled, sliding backwards a bit, but he steadied her, urging her to hurry.  Sophie's voice dropped.  "You think it's them?"

With a grimace, Peter pulled the girl to the ground as they found a large tree to hide between and watch the road.  "I don't know, but I don't want to take chances."  They watched as the car approached slowly, the strong beam of a flashlight scanning the woods on either side of the road from the back seat.  Sophie bit her lip and looked up at Peter.  "Yeah, I think it's them," he whispered unnecessarily.

"Do you think they saw the car in the ditch?"

Peter nodded, motioning for the girl to be quiet.  He tried to see what the two men in the car were looking for, and felt his stomach clench as he noticed.  Sometime during the night, a light dusting of snow had fallen.  Squinting in the early morning light, the detective could clearly make out the faint signs of their scramble up the bank on the side of the road.  With the flashlight, Smith and his partner couldn't miss it.

"Fuck!" he said explosively, grabbing Sophie by the hand.

"What?" she asked frantically, knowing something was drastically wrong.  "What's the matter?  Peter?"

Peter set off through the woods, dodging trees and keeping a firm grip on the girl's hand.  She willingly ran behind him, panting.  "Peter?"

"We left tracks," he explained through gritted teeth.  "They'll be after us in just a few minutes."

"Oh."  There really wasn't any other response to make.  They raced through the trees, dodging fallen tree trunks.  Dead branches snapped loudly, marking their progress.  Peter swore; behind them a flashlight beam penetrated the area they had just left.  Now they could hear the sounds of pursuit-two deep voices growling directions at each other: Smith and Wilcox.

Stumbling along, trying to hold his ribs with one hand and the girl with the other, Peter tripped on a tree root and slid down a bank, ending up on a narrow path.  Sophie followed him down, landing across his legs. Both were back on their feet within seconds, breathing hard but not willing to give up.  Following the flatter surface was easier, or would have been if either of them had been in any shape to run.

The path ended at a small cabin set in a tiny clearing.  There were no electrical lines leading into the building, and no smoke coming from the large chimney.  The door, when they reached it, was obviously locked.  Without stopping to think how much it might hurt, Peter kicked it in.

Sophie was propelled inside by the detective.  Shutting the door behind them, he examined the broken lock and slid an inefficient dead bolt mounted on the doorframe in place. They looked around the small one-room cabin.  A huge fireplace dominated one wall, across from it, a second wall was filled with several racks of neatly hung tools and equipment.   Small windows on the side opposite them looked out on a frozen lake.

"What is all that stuff for?" Sophie asked, looking at a variety of blades, poles and equipment she had never seen before.

Sparing a quick glance at the wall, Peter tilted his head.  "Ice-fishing, I think."

"Could there be anything we can use?" the girl asked hopefully.

"Well, there might be," Peter said, not believing a word of it.  The small cabin wasn't any warmer than outside.  He wrapped his coat more tightly around his body and felt the hard shape in one pocket.  Cursing his pounding head, he pulled the forgotten gun from his pocket and checked the chamber.  Three bullets.  Unfortunately, this fancy lady's gun wouldn't do much more than slow the counterfeiters down.  He'd have to make each one count, something he could do without even thinking on a normal day, but on a normal day he wouldn't have a throbbing head, sore ribs and a small girl counting on him.

Sophie's eyes grew wide as she looked from the little gun to his face.  "Where did you get that?" she asked, her voice showing her surprise.

"It was in the glove box of the car."  He set himself up at the window nearest the door, breaking out a small pane of glass.  Sophie stood helplessly in the center of the cabin; he knew he should distract her.  "Why don't you look around and see if you can find anything.  If you need to break into something, do it."  He looked around the small room.  "We can always pay the owners back later."

"Okay."  Sophie started with the most obvious place; the racks of tools.  "Peter, look!  Knives!"  she cried.

Peter looked at what she had found-they weren't knives but chisels...useful for chipping into the ice, not much good for anything besides clubs in a fight.  "Good job, Sophie," he praised, knowing she needed the reassurance,  "keep looking."  While the girl searched, he watched for their pursuers.

********************************

Part Nineteen

Catherine Wilcox refused to say anything without her lawyer.

Kermit was ready to boil over like a dark-haired volcano.  Nothing he said made any impression on the woman.  If this had been in his own jurisdiction...but it wasn't, and he didn't know the officers on the scene, most of who were watching him suspiciously.  Blake, sensing his mood, tried to divert him with the information he had learned from Sam, the second teenager who had been locked in the closet upstairs.  He had been pathetically grateful to be let out, but really had little new information to add.

"We know the make and model of the two cars," Blake said.

"So, let's go find them," Kermit growled, restraining himself from attacking the woman staring at him from across the room.  "How long have they been gone?"

"They left right after the SOS signal, according to the kids," Blake nodded at the teens talking to an officer.  "So it's been about forty minutes."  Kermit let out a wordless growl and stomped out of the room.

Blake followed him as he stalked down to the end of the driveway, and bent down to examine the ground.  "What are you doing?" the older detective asked, slightly confused.

"They went right," Kermit said, straightening.  "Come on."  Blake had to trot to keep up with him; he had barely taken his foot off the ground before the car was speeding down the driveway, turning right at the end.

The sun was coming over the tops of the trees when they saw the car in the ditch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sophie, bring whatever you found over here, then go stand in the fireplace."

The girl frowned, but followed the directions, bringing a small pile of equipment to the detective.  She carefully placed them beside the young detective and pulled back.  "The fireplace?" she asked doubtfully.

Peter nodded.  "If you can get up inside the chimney, that would be best." He sighed at her quizzical expression.  "If they start firing at us, that's probably the safest place.  And if they get in here...well, if you hide up there they might not find you."

"Oh."  She stood as if rooted to the spot, staring at him.

"Now, Sophie," Peter said gently, not moving his gaze from the broken window.  "I want you to be safe.  If they do get in here, you stay hidden."  He tensed as the distinctive sound of a car approaching reached his ears.  "Now!" he repeated sharply.

Sophie followed orders and moved into the fireplace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's empty," Blake reported, peering into the window.

"I expected as much," Kermit replied from the bank on the other side of the road.  "They went this way."

Blake pushed himself to his feet and moved to join the taller detective, who pointed at the ground.  "A second car stopped here, and someone got out."  He pulled out the Desert Eagle and turned to stare at Blake.  "Follow the road.  The other car is up there somewhere."  The older man nodded.

"Blake?"

"Yes, Kermit?"

The shades regarded him for a moment.  "Don't scratch my car."  Kermit bared his teeth in a feral grin and turned to climb up the bank.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Smith strode out into the clearing, looking confident.  His eyes immediately settled on the cabin, and an evil smile crossed his face.  He pulled something out of his pocket and flipped it open; a cell phone.  Peter looked at it longingly.   Smith talked briefly, then paced out of sight down the path.

Peter waited.  He was sure that he hadn't seen the last of the man.  Sure enough, a few minutes later a car edged through the bare branches.  Wilcox got out of the driver's side and looked back over his shoulder.  A minute later, Smith reappeared.  They consulted briefly, then looked towards the cabin.

"We know you're in there!" Smith shouted.  "Come out now, and we'll go easy on you."

Peter snorted.  The other man's body language betrayed him...he was furious, and wanted to take out that aggression on someone.  Peter was not going to give him that option.  He remained silent, waiting for the men to approach the cabin.  Three bullets, and he had to make them count.  Outside, their former captors were arguing, Wilcox waving his arms towards the lake.   Peter wondered if he knew the owners of the cabin...and knew about the augers, chisels and other potentially lethal weapons hanging as ornamentation on the walls.

Both men pulled guns out from under their coats and approached the cabin warily.  Peter waited until they were about twelve feet away and fired.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kermit was following the trail, wishing he had thought to put on better shoes this morning...last night...whenever.  There were patches of ice in the undergrowth, and treacherous tree roots everywhere.  He wasn't surprised to see an indication of someone tall tripping and sliding down a nearby embankment.  Taking an easier route, he climbed down to a path.  A path that had been recently crossed by a car, he noted, seeing the unmistakable marks of tire treads on the frozen ground.

He was following the path cautiously when he heard the sound of shots ringing through the woods.  Kermit started to run.

***************************

Part Twenty

The sharp crack of gunfire filled the cabin.  Peter squeezed off two shots carefully, knowing that notoriously unreliable Derringers usually didn't hit what they were aimed at.  The first bullet hit Wilcox's forearm; the tall man grabbed at his arm with his free hand, letting the gun fall from the other.  The second bullet caught Smith high in the right shoulder of his thick coat.  Peter waited to see if he would need the third shot.

Wilcox cradled his arm, moving back toward the car.  Smith turned toward him, his broad back blocking Peter's view of the taller man.  The detective could barely make out the conversation outside.

"Where are you going?" Smith snarled.  The taller man muttered something the detective couldn't hear.  He had no problem understanding Smith's response though.  The shorter kidnapper pointed his weapon at his partner and fired.  Wilcox fell to the ground.

"Shit!" Peter swore, taking in the treachery.  He threw himself to the ground as Smith turned and fired at the house.  Glass fell over him as bullets shattered the panes of glass in the window above him.  Holes appeared in the flimsy door, letting in an eerie pattern of light.  Peter looked towards the fireplace where the only sign of Sophie was a dangling shoelace.  The shots stopped.  Peter peered out the shattered window.

There was no one in sight.

The hairs on the back of Peter's neck rose, as he sensed the approach of someone from behind.  The windows on the other side of the cabin crashed inward, Peter whirled to face the intruder, firing instinctively.    He had expected Smith; his bullet hit the taller Wilcox in the ribs.  The tall man fell to the floor, grabbing at the wound as the flimsy bolt broke and door crashed in.

Smith grinned evilly as he took in Peter's startled expression.  "Works every time," he gloated, pointing his gun directly at the detective.  "You all right?" he called over his shoulder.

Wilcox growled, rolling to his knees.  "Yeah, fine.  You counted wrong though-he still had one bullet."  Cautiously, the man opened his coat and stuck his hand underneath.

"Yeah?  He get you?"

"Scraped across my ribs."  From the corner of his eye, Peter could see the scowl he directed at his partner.  "Next time, you create the diversion."

"Yeah, yeah," Smith said dismissively.  His beady eyes glared at his captive.  "He's kind of pissed at you right now, cop.  Bullets hurt...even from Cath's wimpy little toy gun.  Where's the girl?"

Peter raised his eyebrows.  "What girl?" he asked, spreading his arms wide from his body in surrender.

As Smith took a furious step forward, the younger man suddenly kicked out, knocking the gun from the other man's hand.  A quick half turn and another kick caught the stunned man in the stomach.  As Smith staggered, gasping, Peter whirled around with a third kick that knocked the man to the ground.

Before the detective had his foot back on the ground, Wilcox charged, knocking Peter to the ground and landing on his back.  A blow thudded into his kidney, causing Peter to groan.  A meaty fist grabbed a handful of hair and yanked Peter's head back.  Panting with effort and pain--the hair being pulled seemed to come from the same vicinity as the almost-forgotten head wound--Peter thrust back with one elbow.  He caught Wilcox right over the Derringer wound, and the bigger man fell backwards.

Peter stretched his arm out and touched one of the chisels Sophie had brought him.  Breathlessly, he pushed himself first to his knees, then to his feet and staggered over to Wilcox, who had pulled his coat aside to look at the wound.  The tall man looked at Peter with murder in his eyes.  "You're dead," he said flatly.

"You can try," Peter replied dangerously.  Wilcox pulled himself to his full height and sneered, then swung at the detective.  Peter caught the arm and kept the momentum going, throwing the larger man off balance.  As he passed, Peter struck out with the chisel and caught the other man behind the ear with the tool.  Wilcox stumbled and fell, unconscious.

Peter leaned against a chair, trying to catch his breath, keeping an eye on the man on the floor at his feet.  He knew he needed to find the guns, get Sophie out of the chimney, and leave...but he needed just a minute to rest...  The weary detective didn't hear Smith behind him until the counterfeiter chuckled.  The detective turned slowly to see the man standing just out of range; his retrieved gun pointed straight at his heart.

Smith laughed softly.  "You're gonna regret the day you crossed my path."

There was a sudden loud noise, and Smith's gun flew from his hand in a burst of crimson.  "Oh, I think he already does," said a dry voice.

Peter turned startled eyes to the figure in the doorway. "Kermit!"

"Miss me, kid?" his friend asked with his trademark grin.  The Desert Eagle never wavered as he took in the blood on Peter's face and clothing, but the grin died.  "You hurt?"

Peter shook his head, still slightly breathless.  "Nah, I've been worse.  How did you find me?"

Kermit scoffed, pulling out his handcuffs and tossing them to his friend.  "Are you kidding?  After the signal you sent?"

Peter grinned as he caught the cuffs.  "The SOS actually worked?  Somebody saw it?"  He had thought it a shot in the dark, something to keep Sophie hopeful.  It was gratifying to know that it had actually attracted some attention.

"Yeah, and reported it to the locals.  Blake was monitoring for anything that sounded...odd; and here we are."

"Just in time to save the day,"

"Looked like you did that yourself," Kermit said, watching as Peter rolled Smith onto his side and secured his wrists with the handcuffs.

Peter shrugged.  "Yeah, maybe.  But I'm still glad to have your company."  Looking around the room, he yanked down a curtain to staunch the bleeding from their prisoner's hand. "So where IS Blake?"

"Calling this in.  Where's the girl?" Kermit's tone was flat, but Peter could read the worry concealed in it.  He hastened to reassure the detective then stopped.  Why hadn't Sophie come down?  With his heart in his mouth, he rushed toward the fireplace.

"Sophie?  Are you..."

"I'm up here!" a muffled voice shouted.  "Is it safe to come down now?  I think I need some help...I, uh...I seem to be stuck."

************************

Epilogue

"So, Dan and Sam will be okay?"

Peter put down his spoon and nodded.  "They'll have some stiff fines to pay, and probably quite a few hours of community service, but since they're testifying against the Snyders..."

"Who?" Ayaas interrupted with a frown.

 "Our friendly school counterfeiters...Snyder is their real name...Elizabeth, Robert and William Snyder.  The men are brothers."  Both kids frowned as they contemplated this news.

Sophie dragged her spoon along the bottom of the bowl, scooping up the dregs of ice cream and chocolate sauce.  "I tried to get Mari to tell me what was going on, but she wouldn't talk.  How did they all get together anyway?"

The detective sighed.  "Dan and Sam discovered that they could create fake bills on the school computer that passed for real.  They passed a few in this area before getting scared and stopping.  Then Dan's family took both boys skiing in New England, and they decided that they would use some of the fake money there."  He handed Sophie a napkin.  "You've got chocolate all over your chin."

As she wiped it off, making a face at Ayaas who made no move to hide his laughter, Peter continued. "I don't have all the details, but apparently Dan passed the bill to one of the Snyders, who figured out that the kid was onto something.  They were tired of fleecing tourists, so they followed the boys back here and made them an offer they couldn't refuse."

"They weren't forging money that last day though," Ayaas pointed out.  "It was the wrong shape."

Peter nodded.  "You've got a good eye, Ayaas.  No, they had moved on to making savings bonds and stock certificates."

"Are those worth more?"

"They could be.  Evidently they were worth enough that the Snyders were willing to risk kidnapping and possibly murder to cover their tracks."  He levelled a stern gaze at the two youngsters, who squirmed under his regard.

"I think that's my mom," Ayaas said, pointing out the shop window.

"Oh no, you don't," Peter said, his voice firm.  "I perfected the "distract and he'll forget" before you two were born.  Now that you're un-grounded, I invited you down here so that we can talk about what you did."

"Our parents already talked to us," Sophie protested.  "Separately, together and as a team.  We KNOW what we did was stupid."  She looked at Peter, eyes brimming.

"I'm not going to fall for that one either," Peter said, his mind focused on the goal instead of the woebegone face in front of him.  "You two are going to make me a promise that you can't wiggle out of, can't manipulate to your own advantage, and can't forget."

Two sets of eyes regarded him steadily.  "What kind of a promise?" Sophie ventured.

Peter grinned.  "A simple one," he assured them.  They traded suspicious glances and looked back at him.

"Yeah?" Ayaas asked doubtfully.

"Yeah.  You promise me that anytime you are suspicious of anyone for any reason, you tell me in person, before you take any action."

They mulled that over as Peter finished his sundae.  "What if you're on a case, or on vacation or something?" Sophie asked.

"You tell your parents, or Kermit, or my father, or someone who will listen.  In person."

"Can't we tell someone over the phone?"  Sophie complained.  "It will take too long to tell someone in person."

"In person," Peter repeated, his voice unyielding.

The kids looked at each other, a silent conversation taking place in their body movements.  "Oh, all right."  Ayaas finally told Peter.  "I promise."  He turned expectant eyes to his partner in crime.

"I promise too," Sophie sighed.

"Good.  And no more unannounced trips to the city," Peter added.

"Spoilsport," Ayaas muttered.  "All right, no unannounced trips to the city," he repeated when Peter lowered his eyebrows.

"Me too. No trips." Sophie added hastily.

"Okay."  The detective smiled with relief, pleased that the difficult part was over.  He knew that both kids would keep their word.  He had no doubt that they could still get around the promise somehow, but...telling a responsible adult in person would go far towards keeping them safe.   "Now, you have another half an hour before Noura picks you up, so what would you like to do?  We could go to Chinatown, or to the park, or to my father's place..."  His voice trailed off as he looked at the grins on their faces.  He sighed.  "The regular?"

Both dark heads nodded.

"Okay, the precinct it is," the detective said, sighing again.  "Who do you want to bother today?  Vice?  Homicide?  Bunko?"  Shaking his head, he led the way out of the shop and down the street, his two small shadows trailing behind him.  "Traffic?  Criminal Justice?  Juvenile?"

The end?
 

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