Prologue

Blackness defined his world.  Detective Peter Caine rubbed his face with his shoulder, thinking that there might be a blindfold, but the darkness, the utter lack of light, did not change.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  'Concentrate,' he told himself fiercely.  Another deep breath.  Peter began to take stock of himself.

His head hurt, a throbbing pain was located just over his left temple.  The rest of his body was not much better; it felt like someone had used him as a punching bag.  Peter tried to move his hand to feel the welt on his head, but his left hand wouldn't move.  His right hand moved no further.  Pulling did no good.  So he was tied down.  Another deep breath took care of the panic just beginning to stir in the pit of his stomach.  Panic would do no good.  He tested his feet.  They were also tied.  He shivered.  Wherever he was, it was cold, and he seemed to be dressed only in his jeans-no socks or boots, no shirt.

Peter opened his eyes and waited for them to adjust to the darkness.  A faint glimmer of light outlined three sides of a rectangular shape; a door, just across the room.  From the light leaking in, Peter could just make out the shape of the chair he was tied to.  A boarded-up window was high on the wall opposite the door.  There was nothing else in the room; not much to work with.

Peter reached deep within himself.  There had to be some way to get out of this.
 

Part One

Some vacation!  Kerry sighed as she opened the door to let out the dogs.  Her dog Maggie stopped at the door and looked at her, as if to ask what was wrong.  "Out!"  Kerry ordered, pointing.  "Stay in the yard!"  Maggie jumped out the door, following Scruffy and Jester, her parents' dogs.  Kerry ran a comb through her wet caramel-colored hair as she wandered out onto the deck.

She watched the dogs playing and reluctantly grinned.  Okay, so her parents really deserved this vacation.  Okay, so she really didn't mind babysitting their dogs while they were away.  Okay, so she didn't really have any better way to spend the extra six days she had earned in comp time over the winter. Vermont wasn't such a bad place to spend a vacation; it was just that she would like some company.  "Human company," she explained to Jester, who had wandered over to give her bare leg a big sloppy kiss.  "You can only stand so much solitude."  She tilted her head back to let the sun caress her face.

April in Vermont could be horrible-snow, hail and/or mud season; or it could be beautiful, as it was now.  The sun warmed the air to an unseasonable 70 degrees. The trees, though bare, showed just the faintest hints of color from the buds beginning to awaken.  The brown grass of the field was showing the slightest hint of green, and the scent of spring was in the air.  Kerry had raided her mother's closet for the pair of shorts she was now wearing.  It would be nice to tan her legs a little before she gave up the tights she wore most of the winter.

The dogs were racing around the yard, chasing each other when the phone rang.  Kerry ran back into the house to answer it.

The answering machine had already picked up.  Kerry couldn't find where she had left the phone, so she listened to the speaker.  "Hi Kerry, this is Kim.  I'm coming up this weekend, I need to vent.  See you then."

Kerry looked down at Jester, who had followed her into the house.  "When I said human company, I was thinking of the friendly, non-related, male kind; not venting sisters," she said grouchily.  Jester grinned at her.  Kerry shook her head in disgust. "I'm discussing my needs with a dog now?"  Replacing the phone back in the cradle, she grabbed a can of Tab (her breakfast) and a book and went out onto the deck to catch some rays.

An hour later, her hair was dry, her book was finished, and she was totally bored.  "Let's go for a walk," she said to the three dogs laying about her in various states of slumber.  "I need the change of scenery."  She pulled her hair into a scrubby ponytail as she got up from the chair.

While the dogs jumped around her, landing on top of each other in their excitement, she went into the house and changed into her own jeans and laced up a pair of hiking boots.  Although the sun was warm, she pulled on a beloved extra-large sweatshirt; knowing that in the woods, it would be much colder than on the deck.  Hell, even at the edges of the field, places that rarely felt direct sunlight, there were piles of snow still melting.  After locking the door, she draped three leashes around her neck and stuffed her pockets full of dog treats.

"Come on!"  She said to the eager dogs, who didn't seem to quite believe that they were going off on an adventure.  When they saw she was serious, they raced across the field on the path that took them into the woods.

Kerry's parents owned what she and her sisters jokingly referred to as "the ancestral estates," 50 acres of land at the foot of Blue Mountain that had belonged to her family since the early 1800's.  It had originally been farmland, but in the past forty years had slowly gone back, mostly, to woods.  There were paths that led through her parent's property to the neighbors. Together, the families had created trails though over 240 acres for mountain biking, horseback riding, and snowmobiling in the winter.  After the trails ended, the land belonged to an apple orchard and logging operation, which went up to the top of Blue Mountain. From Kerry's house to the top of the mountain, there were no houses, no roads, and usually no people.

The dogs raced ahead of Kerry up the gentle slope of the mountain.  They raced back down to check on her when she was too slow to catch up.  They chased squirrels up trees.  Kerry enjoyed hiking, and the dogs were fun to watch.  As she climbed, she checked out the woods for signs of wild animals.  Last year, about this time, she had spied a flock of wild turkeys resting in the trees.  Of course, on that trip she had been with her father and no dogs.
Suddenly, the air rang with the sound of short excited barks.  Kerry swore; she knew that particular bark. The last time Maggie had used that tone, she had cornered a skunk.  Kerry ran, even before she heard Scruffy start to bay; and then Jester joined in with a series of yelps.

"If you girls have a skunk, you're going to be really sorry!" she yelled.  "Maggie, come!"  Maggie's barks where becoming more frantic.  Kerry rounded the corner and came to a complete stop.  Her dog was bouncing up and down beside the body of a man, lying face down on the ground.  Jester was licking the bottom of one bare foot, and Scruffy was hiding behind a tree, still baying.  "Oh my God!" Kerry gasped.
 

Part two

She ran to the man's side and dropped to her knees beside his head. Cautiously, she put one hand on the man's shoulder.  "Sir?"  Her voice was shaking, so she cleared her throat.  "Sir? Can you hear me?"  She shook the shoulder gently.  No response.  His skin felt cool, but not cold.  Kerry reached down and pushed aside silky brown hair to feel for a pulse in the neck.  It was there, strong and slow.  She let out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding.

Heart pounding, she couldn't decide what to do.  Years of her mother's warnings made her cautious.  She didn't know anything about this man.  He could be a murderer, or a rapist, or a lunatic escaped from the local insane asylum.  She shook her head sharply.  She couldn't just ignore someone so obviously in need of help.

Sitting back on her heels, she surveyed the man.  Was he crazy?  No shoes, not even any socks!  He was wearing an old, dirty denim jacket that looked too big for him.  The jeans were obviously his, they fit him like a second skin.  Kerry looked up and down the trail.  No sign of a horse or an ATV.  What could have happened?

Maggie was still barking.  Jester moved up from the man's feet to his outstretched hand and renewed her licking.  Scruffy was trying to hide behind Kerry now.  "Quiet!" she said firmly to her dog.  She pushed Scruffy away. Her mind raced through the options available.

Obviously, he needed medical attention.  Just as obviously, he wasn't going to get it here.  Kerry knew exactly where she was, unfortunately, she was directionally challenged, and there was no way she would be able to tell someone else how to get to this exact spot.  There was no way an ambulance would be able to drive up the trails anyway.  Kerry ran her hands down each of the man's limbs.  Nothing seemed to be broken.  It didn't look like he had fallen off of anything; the ground wasn't disturbed by any tracks other than his bare footprints.  It looked like he had reached this spot and dropped from exhaustion.

She took a deep breath, coming to a decision.  Lifting his right arm above his head, Kerry rolled the man over towards her.  She looked down at the still form before her.

"Oh no," she breathed.  Under the denim jacket, the man wore no shirt.  His torso was dark with bruises.  Her gaze traveled up to his face.  It was badly swollen.  He had a black eye on the right and the other side of his face was covered with dried blood that had obviously come from a blow to the temple. Kerry looked around again, but saw no sign of a rock discolored with blood.  On closer examination, both wrists and ankles were circled with bruises and dried blood.
Maggie started barking again, and this time Jester joined in.

Kerry's heart was pounding so hard her ears throbbed.  "Be quiet!" she snapped at the dogs, alarmed by the sight she had just uncovered.  There was no way this had happened in an accident.  The dogs subsided, obviously alerted by her tone.

"Okay, we can do this," Kerry said to herself.  "Water...I need water."  There was a stream just down the trail.  Kerry ran down, pulling her sweatshirt over her head as she did so.  At the stream, she pulled off her T-shirt and put it in the cold water as she put the sweatshirt back on.  Armed with the dripping shirt, she ran back to the man. With the wet cloth, she touched his wrists, then moved up to his face.  Gently, she bathed the bruised face.  "Wake up!"  She prayed, "please, please wake up!"

***

Peter Caine felt something cold dripping on his face.  With what seemed like superhuman effort, he dragged open his eyes.  Three faces were staring at him intently.  No, three dogs were staring at him intently.  Then a woman pushed the dogs away and put a wet shirt on his face.

"Wake up," she begged.

Peter groaned.  On the whole, waking up seemed like a bad idea.  Sleep was much more comfortable.  But wasn't there a reason that he should be up and moving...?

"You are awake!" the woman gasped, interrupting his thoughts.  "Are you alright?  No, never mind, that was a dumb question, of course you're not all right.  Who are you?  What are you doing here?  Are you in trouble?  What..." she stopped abruptly.  Peter watched her face grow red.  "I'm sorry, I tend talk a lot when I'm nervous...not that I am nervous," she added, a beat too late.  Peter stared, trying to decide which question to answer first.  The woman took the wet shirt from his temple and sat back on her heels.  All three of the dogs moved so they were somehow touching her.  One of them started to growl.

Peter slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position.  "No," he said, his voice sounding rusty in his own ears, "I'm sorry.  It must have been a shock to find me here, looking like something the ..dog.. dragged in.  Where are we?"  Cautiously he braced himself on one arm and lifted his other hand to gingerly feel the now wet bump on his head.
"About halfway up Blue Mountain.  Did you fall off a horse or something?"

Peter hesitated.  He hated to involve civilians in police investigations; even the most practical woman seemed to think she could become the next Nancy Drew.  Considering he had no idea where Blue Mountain was, he was beginning to think he might need a little help.  "Or something." He finally agreed.  "Where exactly is Blue Mountain?"

Her eyes narrowed as she studied his face.  "In Vermont," she said slowly.

"Near Monmouth?" Peter's mouth suddenly felt drier.

"Other side of the state."

"Um."  Peter grunted.  At least he might not have to worry about new terrorists.

The woman looked at him, her muscles tense.  Peter concentrated on looking pathetic and harmless.  He could tell the woman had decided to trust him when her body relaxed.  Whichever dog had been growling stopped.  "Let me help you down the mountain." She offered.  "You can come to my house and clean up.  My Dad should have some clothes that will fit you."

"That would be great.  Um, my name is Peter, Peter Caine."  He reached out his right hand.

She took it.  "I'm Kerry Houghton."
 

Part three

It took a long time to get down the mountain.

Kerry wanted to clean off more of the blood first, but Peter wouldn't let her.  "The faster we get out of here, the better."  He stated firmly as he limped off down the trail.  Kerry whistled shrilly with two fingers for the dogs, who had spread out in all different directions.  Peter limped back to grab her hand.  "No noise."

Kerry pulled her hand from his grasp and backed slowly away, watching his every move, green eyes wary.  Peter sighed.  "Look, I will tell you the entire story, but if I try now, I'm not going to make much sense.  If it makes you feel any better; I'm a cop.  I was kidnapped to keep me from testifying at a trial several days ago.  And if there is anybody out here, which for various reasons I doubt, we don't want them to find us."

"But someone might be looking for you?" Kerry asked, her voice tight with worry.  Maggie gave her a curious look and leaned against her.  Absently, she rubbed the dog's neck, reassuring herself in the familiar feel of warm fur.

"I hope not." Peter muttered.

"We can call the police as soon as we get to my house.  They could meet us at the hospital," Kerry said, obviously planning the next few hours.  "I think the dogs will be okay alone..."

Peter broke into her one-sided conversation.  "No police, no hospital."

"No police?  But look at you!   You're hurt!  You need to go to the hospital to have someone check you out."

"I've been worse," Peter said, a grim set to his mouth.  "And it's not that I don't trust the local cops, but I don't know them.  It could be they already know what's going on up on top of this mountain."

"What is at the top of the mountain?"  Kerry asked in a small voice.  She was suddenly aware that she was in way over her head.

"I can't tell you right now."  Kerry bit her lip as she noticed the thin sheen of sweat coating his face.  It wasn't that hot, he must be in pain.

"Okay, you can tell me later, after we're home."
 

Peter stumbled along, wincing every couple of steps.  When he hit a particularly sharp stone, he sucked in his breath quickly.  Kerry stopped.  "You can't walk on those feet."

"They're the only ones I've got," said Peter, with a lopsided grin.  "Besides," he added, "We can't stop."

Kerry didn't want to think about why they shouldn't stop, so she looked down at his feet. They looked terrible-blue with cold and she could see a few drops of blood that Peter had shed on the trail behind them.  She gracefully folded herself onto the ground and began untying her bootlaces.

"What are you doing?  I certainly can't fit into your boots."

"No, but you can wear the socks!  They're wool, and pretty thick.  They'd be better than nothing."  Pulling off the first boot, she tugged off the sock.  They were warm and thick-and bright pink.  At Peter's expression, she shrugged.  "They're still better than nothing."

Peter sighed and pulled on the socks while Kerry re-laced her boots over bare feet.  The dogs milled around watching the exchange with interest.  Back on the trail, Kerry kept them close by feeding them the treats in her pockets every few minutes.

When they finally reached the base of the woods, with only the field to go through to the house, Peter looked ready to collapse.  "Look for anything ... out of place," he ordered Kerry.  The dogs had already begun racing down the hill, running for the kitchen door and food.

"There's nothing." Kerry said impatiently.  "The dogs would have never run to the door if they smelled anything different around the house.  Let's get you inside."

Somewhere along the trail, she had begun supporting him.  Now, he leaned his weight upon her as they crossed the sharp stubble of last fall's timothy crop.  Kerry knew that each tough stalk must be poking his already-sore feet with no mercy.  When they reached the soft grass of the yard, Peter sighed with relief.

Kerry pulled out the key and unlocked the door.  She led Peter through the kitchen and the living room and into the downstairs guestroom, where she eased him onto the day bed.  "Sorry Mom," she muttered, "but I'm sure the dirt will come off."

Peter's dark lashes were lying against his cheeks.  Kerry looked down at him.  God, even covered in dirt, blood and bruises he was gorgeous.  Not that that was the reason she had decided to trust him... Turning from him, she ran upstairs to get some towels and medical supplies.

He woke up as she started to sponge the blood off his head with warm water.  "Gotta call ... precinct," he muttered.  "Gotta get help."

Kerry was all for help, especially if there might be someone out there searching for him.  And she wanted to know what was going on.  She went and found the portable phone.  "What's the number?" she asked, finger poised to push the buttons.

Peter told her the number.  "Ask for ... Kermit Griffin."
 
 

Part Four

"Sloanville Police Department, One hundred and first precinct." A polite voice said at the other end, "How may I direct your call?"

Kerry's eyebrows went up.  She looked at Peter.  He was out like a light; she was on her own.  "Uh-can I speak to Kermit Griffin?" she asked.  At least it was a police department; Peter must be telling the truth.

"Just a moment please, I'll connect you to that extension."

It was about a five-minute wait listening to a mangled musak version of some almost identifiable song before a brusque voice on the other end stated; "Griffin here."

Kerry hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.  "I.. I've got Peter Caine here," she finally started.

The voice on the other end grew menacing.  "He'd better be alright, or I will personally hunt you down and kill you.  What do you want?"

Kerry pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it.  She could hear the man on the other end growling more threats at her.  When the voice stopped, she cautiously moved the phone back to her ear.  "Let me start over," she said, speaking very carefully. "I was walking in the woods near my house and I found a man named Peter Caine.  He told me to call you."

The voice softened.  "Why didn't you say so?  Is he hurt?"

Kerry looked consideringly at Peter, now sprawled across the guest bed.  "He's sleeping; he looks like he hasn't slept for a week.  He has bruises all over, a cut on his head, and he was barefoot when my dogs found him.  Other than that I guess he's okay. I'm not an expert on first aid, but his pupils are the same size and he was coherent. He says he's been worse."

Kerry could hear a sigh of relief over the line.  "Isn't that the truth."  Kermit muttered.  In a louder voice, he added, "Listen, tell me where you are and I'll come get him."

"Paris, Vermont."

There was a pause. "Is that anywhere near Monmouth?"

Kerry frowned, remembering that Peter had asked that, too.  "No, on the other side of the state."

"Alright, give me directions to your house, and I'll be there in about," Kermit checked his watch, "Eight hours."  After Kerry had given the directions, Kermit paused.  "Did Peter say anything about any... problems?"

"He said that someone kidnapped him to keep him from testifying at some trial, but he thought they probably weren't chasing him anymore."  Kerry said, relieved to share the burden.  She hadn't stopped thinking about the look in Peter's eyes since he told her.  "He also told me no local police and no hospital.  What should I do?"

"If Peter thinks they've given up, they probably have." Kermit agreed.  "Just act normally, and don't let anyone see Peter. See you soon."  Kermit hung up.

"Well, that was certainly reassuring."  Kerry told Maggie, sarcasm masking the fear beginning to build deep within her.
 

Kermit grabbed the map as it finished printing and was out the door two seconds later.  He paused at Karen Simm's door.  "I know where Peter is, I'm going to get him."

"Is his disappearance connected with a case?" Captain Simms asked, lifting one elegant eyebrow, as she looked up from the pile of paperwork stacked in front of her.

"Probably.  Peter thinks he was kidnapped to keep him from testifying, I'm guessing at the Li trial.  The woman who called said she'd found him on a mountain, and he'd fallen asleep from exhaustion.  I didn't actually talk to him."
"Are you sure it's not some kind of trap?"  Concern colored the Captain's voice.  "Where did this woman call from?"
"Vermont.  I checked her out on the computer.  Kerry Houghton, the one who called, lives in Massachusetts, but her parents live at the address she called from.  No one in the family has any kind of criminal record, just a few speeding tickets.  One of the other daughters is actually a deputy sheriff.  I think it's legit.  But the information is on my desk if you need it."

Captain Simms allowed a slight smile to cross her face.  "Detective, I don't recall you asking for any time off."

Kermit grinned.  "That's because I didn't."

Karen turned back to her paperwork.  "I need my best homicide detectives back in this precinct, Kermit.  You have four days.  Be careful, and call me if you need backup.

"And Kermit?"  She looked up from the stack of papers,  "One more thing.  Stop and get Peter's father, or you'll just find him somewhere along the road walking to Vermont."

"Oh yeah."

Kermit Griffin pulled up in front of Kwai Chang Caine's home in Chinatown to find the older man dressed to travel and standing at the curb.  As Kermit stopped, Peter's father opened the door and lowered himself into the passenger seat of the Kermitmobile.

"You have found my son." He stated quietly.

Kermit shook his head.  "I'm not going to ask you how you knew that."

Caine gave him a look, as if to say 'you know better than to ask that question.'   "Peter did not speak to you?"

Kermit stepped on the gas and pulled back into traffic.  "No, he did not.  A woman called.  She said that Peter was asleep, bruised but all right.  He's in Vermont."

"Ah.  A woman?"

"Yes Caine, a woman.  Trust your son to be on a mountaintop in the middle of some god-forsaken wilderness and come across a woman.  She's probably attractive, too."  He added with a glimmer of humor.

"Yes.  That would be like Peter."  Caine agreed.  He reached his thoughts towards his son.  For the past three days, Caine had sensed nothing from him but sheer exhaustion.  Now, he could feel Peter's chi.  His son was gaining some much-needed rest.  Although Caine still worried, Peter didn't seem to be in immediate danger.

Kermit glanced over at the older man.  "I thought you had radar when it came to Peter.  How come you didn't know where he was?"

Caine hesitated.  It was not radar, but he usually did have a sense of his son's whereabouts and feelings. Slowly, he answered his son's friend.  "It is not like that, Kermit.  I can see what Peter sees, feel what he feels. I believe that Peter has been moved several times.  He seemed very...distant.  He did not know where he was, and yet...  Now it seems that he is safe, but...something... still disturbs me."

"That doesn't sound good." The younger man said, hands clenching the steering wheel tighter.

"No, it is not.  Can you drive ... faster?"  In answer, Kermit stepped on the gas.
 
 

Part Five

Kerry sat, twiddling her thumbs, staring at her sleeping guest.  It had been six hours since she had brought Peter into her parents' home.  He was still asleep. When she had put some antiseptic ointment on his cuts and bruises, he hadn't stirred.  Nothing had disturbed him, not even when she had cleaned him up as he slept, washing the blood from his face and hair.   She grimaced.  Mom was not going to like the stains she had left on the bed.

She looked around her.  She was too nervous to follow Kermit's directions.  Instead, every window was closed and locked, every blind pulled.  She had never thought about how many windows her parent's home had.  The whole backside of the house, with French doors in the living room, a sliding door in the kitchen onto the deck, and floor length windows in the family room made her feel extremely vulnerable.  'Only a few panes of glass between safely and ... whatever.' She thought uneasily.  She looked at Peter again.  It was easy to look at him.  She just wished he would open those amazing hazel eyes and look back.

About an hour ago, out of exasperation, she had locked the dogs in the bedroom upstairs.  Scruffy had kept trying to climb onto the bed to curl up beside the sleeping man; Jester had sat next to the bed licking any part of him that came into reach of her tongue; and Maggie would not stop jumping around the bed like Peter was a squirrel she had discovered out on the lawn.  They were probably sleeping on her mother's quilt, but Kerry didn't care.

Restlessly she began pacing around the house.  Living room, kitchen, dining room, living room... kitchen...  Maybe she could make some dinner. She was on her knees going through the pantry shelves when she heard the first noise.  Upstairs, Maggie jumped off the bed and started barking.  Jester and Scruffy joined in with frantic howls.

Kerry dropped the can she had in her hand and ran towards the back bedroom.  Peter was already in the middle of the living room, edging his way to the French doors.  He motioned for Kerry to get behind him.  Upstairs, the dogs sounded almost hysterical.
 

"Is there a gun in the house?" Peter asked quietly.  He felt somewhat renewed by the sleep.  Something had awakened him though, a sense of darkness creeping closer.  In this current state, he doubted he would effectively be able to use shaolin abilities, he wanted to fall back on the cop side, with the familiar feel of a gun in hand.

"No."  Kerry whispered.  That was not the answer he wanted to hear.

"Shit!"  Peter reached the door and pulled the curtain slightly away from the window in order to peer through.

Outside, there were five men dressed head-to-toe in black standing silently on the porch.  Beyond them, he could see two more dark forms in the field, on the path they had used to come to this house.  Just around the corner of the house was the dark bulk of a truck.

"What's out there?" Kerry breathed against his back, one hand on his arm.

Peter dropped the curtain and ran a hand through his hair.  "You don't want to know."  He looked down at the young woman gazing up at him so trustingly.  It was going to get messy, and soon.  He had to protect her, get her away from this.  "Listen, is there any place you can hide, where they won't find you?  I'll tell them that you left to get help."  Looking beyond her, he surveyed the room around him.  His heart sank as he realized that the whole bottom level of the house was completely open, no walls or doors.

Places to hide.  He watched her face as the house layout ran through Kerry's mind. "Under the bed is about the best I could do." She said, eyes fearful.  "I think they'd find me."

They both started as someone knocked on the door.  "Do I answer it?"  Kerry asked uncertainly.  "Maybe if you hid under the bed, they'd believe me.  They don't know you're here."

Peter shook his head, "Yeah, they probably do.  I escaped from some petty crooks with rich daddies who wanted me on ice so that I'd miss their court case, but the people out there now are professionals, and they know I'm here.  Listen, you tell them..."

Kerry never heard what she was supposed to tell them, because suddenly the French doors flew open with a loud crash.

Adrenaline pumping, Peter immediately pushed the doorframe away from him and defended himself as he was attacked by two men.  Out of the corner of his eye, he noted as Kerry crawled out from under the broken glass and splinters of wood and ran towards the front door.  He didn't see the man who jumped on her from behind, knocked her to the floor and pinned her firmly to the ground despite her struggles.

He was surrounded. Peter knocked out the first man with a well-placed kick, but two more attacked as the last man watched.  Peter could feel the energy gained from the all-too-brief rest draining from his body as he traded punches on both sides.  These attackers were fresh and well trained.  As another figure in black joined the two already in the house, the first man he had knocked out came to, and used a leg sweep from behind.  Peter winced as he fell hard to the floor.  Once on the ground the men pounced and held him immobile, one at each limb.  Peter concentrated on his breathing as he fought to stay conscious.

The man who had remained silent and unmoving throughout the brief fight started clapping.  "Bravo, young Caine."  He applauded.  "A valiant effort.  How unfortunate that it was doomed to failure."

Peter squinted up at the man now standing over him.  He blinked twice in disbelief, but finally had to believe what his eyes were telling him.  "Straker?  What the hell are you doing here?  I thought you would be out of the country by now!"

With a scowl, the older man looking down at him said, "I go where I want to go.  And right now, I want to be here."

Peter's mind raced back to the last time he had visited Vermont, when he had encountered this madman.  Straker had operated a prison camp for relatives of high-placed diplomats and other important international figures.  The prisoners were held so that their relatives would do what Straker wanted them to do in foreign affairs.  Peter and his father had been searching for Kermit, who was at the camp.  Together, the three had destroyed Striker's operation.
Straker, as if realizing his prisoner wasn't paying attention, prodded him in the side with one pointed boot.  "Aren't you wondering why I'm here?"

Peter snorted.  "Why wonder-I'm sure you're going to tell me."

Straker kicked the young detective in the ribs with an evil smile playing about his face.  As Peter gasped for air, he waved his finger in the manner of a man chastising a small child.  "No, no, no, young Caine.  Answer nicely."  With his chin, he motioned to Peter.  "Get him up."  He turned to look at Kerry, still on the floor.  "Her, too."  As the two were roughly hauled to their feet, Straker wandered around the Living room, looking at the pictures on the wall.
He cocked his head as he reached the stairway and listened to the dogs upstairs.  Jester was still barking, Scruffy had started an eerie, wavering howl, and Maggie was banging into the door, trying to break it down in order to get to her mistress.  "Good thing there are no neighbors nearby," he commented.  "But, seeing as it's so loud here, I think it's time to move on to my place."

"Leave her here, she doesn't know anything!" Peter said quietly, looking at Kerry.  She was shaking as she stared in turn at the men around her.  Obviously, she was not part of the world of violence that tended to erupt around him.

"Now why would I do that?"  Straker asked, reaching out to touch the terrified woman's cheek. "She knows your name, she knows my name, thanks to you, and she knows where she found you.  That's more than enough to make leaving her behind a disadvantage.  Besides, Detective Caine, you and your father are so noble when there are innocents around.  It should make the game all that much more interesting.

"Put them in the truck!"
 

Part Six

Caine gasped, waking from the meditative state he had slipped into.

"What is it?" Kermit asked, worry lurking in the eyes behind the ever-present green glasses.

"My son..." Caine said, trying to discover what was happening around Peter.  He had a fleeting impression of men dressed in black, a frightened-looking woman, then moving blackness.

Kermit waited, but Caine shook his head in defeat.  "I cannot see what has happened.  Peter was startled, but not...seriously hurt.  He is still difficult to contact.  There was a young woman with him.  Several men dressed in black, and, I think..." He frowned, then said flatly, "Straker."

"Straker!"  Disbelief colored the former mercenary's voice.  "What would he be doing back in this part of the country?  Caine, are you sure?"

"I am sure," the other man said bleakly.  Straker had spent days trying to break him the last time they had met, not realizing he already had the one thing that would bring Kwai Chang Cain to his knees-his son.  Now, it seemed, he had realized his mistake.  "Kermit, Peter is in great danger."

"Yes he is.  Straker."  Kermit cursed under his breath as he kept the car steady on the road.  They were only about two hours away from their destination, but in two hours Straker would be gone.  Grimly, he considered the possibilities.  He knew Straker from his days as a mercenary.  The older man was ruthless and deadly, and lately he had become unstable as well.  Since the prison camp incident a few months ago, Kermit had been making some discreet inquiries.  Rumor was that person considerations were interfering with Straker's judgment and that made him even more unpredictable and dangerous than in the past.

Kermit glanced over at his friend.  Caine's face was impassive, but Kermit knew that he must be in turmoil.  "Straker must still be based somewhere in Vermont.  Damn!  I've had people scouring the world for the bastard, but that was the last place I thought to look."

"It is not your fault, Kermit." Caine's voice was calm as he regarded the man driving.

Clenching his jaw, Kermit disagreed.  "Yes, it is.  Caine, that sorry excuse for a human being contacted me through a mutual acquaintance several weeks ago.  I've been searching for him to...eliminate the possibility of his setting up another operation like the last one.  Straker wanted me to put him in touch with Paul.  He said he had something set up."

"Ah."  Caine considered this in silence for a few moments.  "That still does not make this your fault."

"The way the job was proposed...I've lost my edge, Cain."  Kermit pounded the steering wheel.  "I told the contact that there was no way in Hell I would work for Straker or let him anywhere near Paul.  I screwed up any chance I had of finding him.  I was so close, and I blew it!  Straker isn't in his right mind.  I wanted to find him.  If I hadn't overreacted, I could have.  For all we know, he discovered the relationship between Paul and Peter.  It is my fault."

"Kermit, you cannot control the actions of another.  The blame rests on the person who is committing the act.  We both know that Straker does not think rationally.  It is just as likely that he took Peter because he is my son."  Calm brown eyes stared into green glasses.  Kermit wrenched his eyes away to watch the road.

"Fine," the man behind the glasses said through clenched teeth.  "It's not my fault.  It's not your fault.  It's Straker.  How does that help Peter?"

"It...does not.  We must help Peter.  We will start at the home of the young woman."

Kermit watched the surrounding countryside race by as the speedometer climbed over 90 mph.
 

Part 7

The disguised truck drove sedately away from the white farmhouse, up the winding mountain roads.  In the back, Peter tried to keep his balance as bumps in the road made the truck bounce.  He was standing, his hands cuffed over his head to a metal brace in the center of the roof.  He looked up, hoping he had missed a way, any way, to get his hands free, but the trucks interior was too dark.

Peter had seen the truck as he was forced into it.  It was a battered, non-descript truck that could have been used for anything from shipping apples to carting hay bales.  The original intention of the metal brace had probably been to anchor crates to keep them from shifting during deliveries.  Unfortunately, it worked just as well keeping nosy detectives in place during a kidnapping.  Straker's men sat on benches mounted around the walls of the truck, watching him.  One of them turned on a fluorescent flashlight, and Peter could see again.

"Waiting to see my Houdini tricks?" Peter quipped.

"Shut up kid," one of the men growled.

"Just trying to break the tension." Peter grinned, gauging the men's reactions.  They showed no emotion.  Not a good sign, but at least their fists weren't swinging at him.  He decided to push them a little farther.  Maybe they would give away something, anything that would tell him what this was all about.   "So, where are we going?"

"Already trying to figure out another escape plan?" The same man who had spoken before regarded him without expression.

"Can't blame a guy for trying."  The man got to his feet.  Peter thought <Oh shit!> and braced himself.  The man was about Peter's height, but easily out-weighed him by about twenty pounds.  He stopped directly in front of his captive.  Unblinking, he stared into Peter's eyes, but made no move towards him.

Peter stared back, unflinching.  He tried to clear his all-too-readable eyes of the anger and fear he felt...tried to look back with curiosity and calm.  From what he had heard from Kermit, Straker's men felt no particular loyalty towards their employer; he simply paid their fees.  If he could gain a friend in the ranks, maybe there was a chance of escape or rescue.

The grey-haired mercenary watched as hope filled the kid's eyes.  "I worked once with your foster father and the computer geek," he commented softly, still staring into those hopeful eyes, waiting for the younger man to relax his guard.  When that happened, his voice turned harsh.  "I didn't like them.  Blaisdell always was a bossy bastard."  With that, he slammed his fist into Peter's stomach, then returned to the bench.  "Don't expect to escape from this one, kid."

Gasping for air, Peter struggled to regain his feet and tried to bring his muddled thoughts back under control.  When they had escaped from Straker's prison, Straker had been suspicious of the connection between Kwai Chang Caine and Kermit, but seemed to think that Peter was only along because of his father.  Had Straker discovered Peter's connection to Paul Blaisdell?  Was that the reason for this abduction?

He raised his head and looked again at the mercenaries.  The grey-haired man who had spoken was watching him with a smile playing about his lips.  Most of the others were staring into space, divorcing themselves from the situation.  Only one was staring directly at Peter, an unreadable look in his eyes.  Peter memorized his face, just in case.

His breathing under control, Peter opened his mouth to ask another question.  "Don't," the grey-haired mercenary warned, "Unless you want more of the same."

Prudently, Peter closed his mouth.
 

They reached their destination in about an hour.  The sun had set during the trip, and the Vermont night air was cold.  Peter was beginning to shiver, even though he was wearing the sweatshirt Kerry had left on the bed earlier.  When the truck finally jounced to a stop, one of the mercs briefly unlocked the cuffs and refastened them behind Peter's back.  He could barely feel his arms.

He stumbled as he was shoved from behind and fell from the truck.  He winced, knowing that with his wrists locked behind him it would be a rough landing. Unexpectedly, Kerry appeared from around the side of the truck, and broke his fall as he tumbled out on top of her.  Momentarily staggered, she regained her balance, but was unable to save Peter from falling to the ground.  She helped him to his feet, then almost brought them down again when she threw her arms around him in a fierce embrace.

"Touching," Straker commented.  "You do have a way with the ladies, Caine."

Peter shook his head.  "Look, Straker.  I don't know what you want, but..."

Straker broke in.  "Blaisdell.  I want Blaisdell."  He buffed his nails on his jacket and admired their shine as Peter was momentarily silenced.

"...and Griffin would be nice.  We'll throw in your father, just for my own amusement.  You, boy, are the key to getting all three of them here in my camp.  Just the threat of harm to their dear little Peter, and all three of your daddy figures will be here, panting to help get you out of trouble."

Peter's heart sank, but he rallied.  "How do you think you'll get them here?  I don't even know where Paul is, and if you try contacting Kermit, he'll trace you down in a second.  My father doesn't have a phone, so unless you're planning to go to Chinatown, you're out of luck."

Straker was looking at him with pity.  "Caine, please give me the benefit of having some brains.  I have had you all thoroughly researched.  I know about your connection to your father, the mystic Shaolin priest.  If you're hurt, he comes.  If he needs more reality-based assistance, he calls Griffin.  If Griffin is concerned about your welfare, he contacts Blaisdell.  So the key to this entire problem is...you.

"Specifically, you in pain," he clarified.  "So, let's go down into your new quarters and try to summon your protectors, shall we?"  The guards grabbed peter and Kerry and pushed them after Straker.
 

Part 8

Kermit pulled into the dark farmhouse yard.  As he moved down the driveway, floodlights lit up the yard and house.  Caine was out the door before the car stopped moving, with Kermit only seconds behind.  Together, they surveyed the wreckage of the French doors.  Upstairs in the house, dogs began barking, their voices raspy and hoarse.

Drawing the Desert Eagle, Kermit edged his way into the house around the ruined doors.  A few lights were on, but looking at the outlets, he saw timers.  It was never too late to be cautious, and Peter's surprise visitors could have left someone behind.

Caine laid a hand on his arm.  "Kermit, put your weapon away.  There is someone coming."  Kermit had just tucked the gun out of sight and they were back on the porch when a battered red pickup truck stopped behind his Corvair.  The tall woman who got out of the truck had curly brown hair almost to her waist.  She was also pointing a gun at them.

"FREEZE!" she shouted.  Inside the house, the hoarse barks turned to whimpers.  "Hands on your heads.  Who are you and what the Hell are you doing here?"  Her eyes never left Kermit's hands as they were slowly lifted above his head.  He supposed that he should be honored that she so obviously considered him the more dangerous of the pair confronting her.

Beside him, Kwai Chang Caine inclined his head.  "I am Caine," he stated slowly, his hazel eyes regarding her calmly.  "We are searching for my son.  Your...sister...found him in the woods earlier today."

"Kerry?  Oh God, Kerry."  She turned her gaze to the older man.  "Where is she?"  Fear made her voice break.  "What have you done with her?"

Caine shrugged. "We have not...done...anythingwith her.  The men who took my son took her as well."  The look he sent to her was full of sympathy.  "She has not...yet...been harmed."

Kermit sighed.  "You must be Kim Houghton."

The woman turned green eyes back to him, letting her anger override her fear.  "How do you know that?" she snapped.

"I'm from the Sloanville PD.  If you'll permit me..."As she nodded warily, he reached into his jacket and pulled out his badge, handing it to her.  "Kermit Griffin.  Caine's son is my partner, he disappeared a week ago.  When your sister called me this morning to tell me that she found him, I did a little research.  Various sources listed a sister in law enforcement."

Taking the badge, she examined it closely.  With a grimace, she handed it back and tucked her gun into the back of her jeans.  "You might as well come on in and tell me what's going on while I call the Sheriff's Department."

Caine laid a gentle hand on her arm.  "You must not call the authorities yet."

"The Hell I won't!" she said explosively, throwing off the hand.  "If my sister has been abducted, then we need to start looking for her right now!"

"Even if that could get her killed?" Kermit asked quietly.

Kim shook her head angrily.  "Who are you guys and what is going on?"  She looked up as the whimpering upstairs turned into something that sounded like small children crying.  "Just a minute."  Running upstairs, she opened the warped bedroom door.  All three dogs shot out, tripping over each other and almost falling down the stairs in their haste to get outside.

Kim plunged down the staircase behind them.  Once she joined the men on the porch outside, two of the dogs tried to climb up her legs, whining and crying.  The third one ran in circles, as if trying to find something.

As she bent down to comfort the dogs, Kim glared at her visitors, who were staring bemusedly at the crying dogs.  "So?  Start talking."

"Peter disappeared about a week ago," Kermit began, when Caine raised his hand.

"Is that...her dog?" he asked, staring at the frantic Maggie, who was trying to crawl under Kermit's car.

Kim frowned, studying the dog's actions.  "Kerry's?  Yes.  Her name is Maggie."

"Did Kerry have the dog with her when she found Peter?"

Kermit broke in.  "When I talked to her, she said that she and her dogs found him on a walk."

Kim nodded.  "That's really the reason Kerry would go in the woods, to walk the dogs.  These two are old and don't need much exercise, but Maggie is full of energy.  She would have been up on the trails to Blue Mountain.  They start up there."  She pointed across the field.  "Why?"

Caine stared at the dog, and as Maggie went by, grabbed her by the collar.  "I think that...Maggie...can help us find both Kerry and Peter."

Kermit stared at the black dog, now trying to pull away from the man holding her.  With a frown, he shook his head.  "Caine, they won't take Peter back to the same place."

"Yes." The older man declared firmly.  "We are speaking of Straker.  He wishes for us to find him, he will not make it difficult.   If we are lucky, he does not know that Peter had Kerry contact you.  He does not know that we are here."
 
 

Part 9

The prisoners were thrust into a dimly lit cellar room.  The walls were concrete slabs, the floor, hard-packed dirt, the ceiling, rough beams.  The four men who had pushed them through the barn above the cellar followed them into the room; Straker followed the men.  As he entered, he closed and locked the door.

Pulling on the handcuffs still binding his arms behind his back, Peter looked around the room.  It was not the same one he had escaped from less than 24 hours earlier, but it was similar enough to make him think that they might be in the same building.  He muttered under his breath, "Definitely, that last escape was too easy."

"Yes," Straker agreed, "We told the Li family to let you escape just before we got here.   If it's any comfort to you, I'm sure that those young men will be arrested for some other crime soon.  The whole time they were holding you, they couldn't have come up with an original plan to save their lives.  They'll do something else stupid soon, and your partners can arrest and convict them."

Straker seemed to be growing increasingly irritated as he continued.  "I allowed you to escape to give you time to contact your family and friends.  However, since that didn't happen, well..." his voice trailed off.  "We'll just have to use a tried and true method."

Peter backed up as three of the men circled him, while Straker remained facing him, an unidentifiable smirk on his face.  The fourth unnamed man pulled Kerry into a corner of the room.  Peter slowly turned, trying to keep and eye on everyone.  As he moved to face the grey-haired bruiser from the van, Peter took a defensive stance, balancing as well as he could.  When a punch was thrown at his head he ducked and kicked out with one foot.  As the man went down gasping, Peter heard a choked cry from the corner of the dank room.

"Oh, I forgot to mention," Straker said, watching Peter's face, "Every time you strike one of my men, I will have Green over there injure your little friend in some way.  What was it that time Green?"

"Broken finger." Green answered.

"What are you doing?" Peter protested angrily.  "You don't have any quarrel with the girl.  If you're going to do something, do it to me.  Leave her out of this!"

Straker smiled.  "Innocents.  They do make play more interesting, don't they?  Don't worry, Detective, I intend to start on you next.  The girl is just here to add a little more incentive for you."

He snapped his fingers.  "Begin!"  From around their waists, two of the men unwrapped chains.  "This took a lot of thinking, Caine." Straker explained, thoughtfully rubbing his chin.  "I had to come up with something that would be extremely painful, but not cause serious injury.  After all, it might be some time before Kwai Chang...you don't mind if I call your father that, do you?...Kermit and Blaisdell find us."

Peter swallowed hard as he eyed the heavy lengths of chain, then quickly looked back to Straker.

"So I did some research.  Regular beatings are just too unpredictable--we could injure a kidney or puncture a lung by mistake--not good for long term; and who knows how long you'll be my guest before your father finds us."
Straker reached over to feel one of the chains.  "But a chain--it will hurt, but quite evenly.  There's less chance of severe injuries--external bleeding minimal--internal bleeding near the surface only.  I've heard the bruising can be quite spectacular.  And we can move on to other diversions later, if need be."  Straker smiled at the look in Peter's eyes.

"Remember, Detective," he warned, "If you strike back, your little friend will pay.  Just to make it more interesting, let's unlock those cuffs.  Make the temptation to fight back greater."

Peter stood quite still as Straker took the cuffs off.  It was difficult to restrain is impulse to strike out at the man, but one look at Green standing with a hand on Kerry's shoulder quashed the urge.

He backed away from the first of Straker's men as he began swinging the chain back and forth.  The second man moved up opposite the first; Peter was caught between them.  The grey-haired man from the van pushed himself up from the floor and snarled wolfishly as he pulled out a third chain.

With three men coming at him from all directions, he didn't have a chance.  Peter caught the first chain with one arm; the chain wrapped itself around his forearm and jerked him off balance.  He caught himself and jumped away from the second swing, then ducked under a third.  A fourth swing caught him across the back; the thud knocked him to his knees.  He was up in a second, but the next blow landed on his right shoulder, knocking him off balance again.

As Peter teetered, trying to regain his equilibrium, another blow knocked him to the ground again and he lost count of the swings.  The three men surrounded him as he tried unsuccessfully to get to his feet.  A particularly hard hit across his ribs almost made him kick up at the grey-haired mercenary standing over him in a tempting position, but he remembered Kerry in the corner with Green.  Peter wrapped his arms around his head and curled his knees up into his stomach, trying to protect the more vulnerable areas of his body, and waited for Straker to tire of the entertainment.  Each blow that landed left a throbbing line of agony.  Peter retreated from the pain.
 

Kerry was steadily crying in the corner, no noise but tears streaming down her face.  She refused to look away from the beating, somehow, it felt like watching was the only way she could offer her support to the man now down on the floor.  As he stopped moving, something in her cried out, and she found her voice.  "Stop it!  You're going to kill him!" she screamed.

Straker shook himself like someone coming out of a trance and turned his cold gaze on her.  From her, he looked to the man on the floor, now limp.  "Stop."

Obediently, the thugs stopped, one in mid-swing.  Straker edged past them and turned Peter over with the toe of his boot.  Bonelessly, Peter flopped over onto his back, eyes closed.  "That will be enough, for now," Straker decided.  "We'll let that message get to Caine.  He should be pounding at our gate in the next few days."  He bent down to whisper into Peter's ear; "Tomorrow, I have another interesting lesson planned."

He pointed at the door, and the men left.  Straker's attention returned to Kerry.  "Don't presume to tell me what to do again, girl," he said in an icy voice, "Or next time you'll also be part of the floor show."  He slammed the door behind him as he left.  Kerry heard the key turn in the lock.

Kerry ran across the room and fell to her knees beside Peter's battered body.  Her hands fluttered over his chest, unsure of what to do, where to touch.  Sniffing back tears, she laid her undamaged hand on his relatively unbruised cheek.  "Peter?" she cried, "I don't understand what's going on.  Please don't leave me here alone.  I need you."  Gingerly lifting his shoulders, she huddled against the wall embracing him, waiting for him to come back to her.
 
 

Part 10

From a long way away, Peter could hear Kerry's plea, but he could not force his body to respond.  In the small portion of his brain that was thinking, not just reacting to the pain that wrapped itself around him, pushing at his body, gnawing at nerve endings, he thought about contacting his father.

He wanted to resist, but his concentration scattered every time a different muscle spasmed, causing the pain to wash over him again and again.  Straker was wrong-even if he would put his father in danger by calling to him, there was no way he could possibly reach him in this state.  He felt himself falling into darkness.

*****

<Father, where are you?> Peter called.  He was alone; surrounded by high black walls.  This was not the Temple, where was he?  Where was his father?  Why did he always end up alone?  Tears filled his eyes.

<I am here, Peter,> his father answered from a distance.  <Tell me where you are.  Let me help you.>

<You think I can't help myself?> Peter asked, sudden anger flowing over him in a river of pain.  He felt his father hesitate, then he was there, beside Peter, holding him tightly.

<You can,> the older Caine said softly, <But you need not.  I am here, my son.  Please let me help you.>

<I'm sorry Father.  We're not in the temple anymore, are we?> Peter asked, confused.

<No, Peter.  You have been...hurt.  By Straker?>

Peter cried out as the memory of what had passed came back to him.  <Father!> he gasped.  He felt his father gather him in, then a golden rush of light swept over him, taking away both the anger and the pain.

Through the confusion, Peter knew his father had sent him strength from his own chi.  He reached out.  <Thank you, Father, for being here when I needed you.>

Warm hands held his face.  <I am always with you in spirit.  Soon I will be with you in body.>  The contact was gently severed.

*****

With a groan, Peter finally opened his eyes.  He looked up into Kerry's worried face.

"Peter," she said softly, pushing his tangled hair off his forehead.  "I'm so glad you're awake, I was scared.  How do you feel?  I'm sorry, that's a stupid question..."

Peter's lips lifted into a grin.  "Isn't this where we started?" he gasped.  With a grunt, he got his hands on the floor and pushed himself into a sitting position beside her.  He looked around the bare room, then down at his bloody wrists.  "What, no cuffs?"

"I guess they forgot."  Kerry's voice died away into nothing, and she looked away from Peter.  "I'm sorry," she burst out.  "I should have been more help, I should have done something."

Peter looked down at her bowed head and sighed.  Why did people around him, even people he'd barely met, keep getting hurt because of him?  "You did do something," he said quietly, patting Kerry on the shoulder.  "You cared.  That made me stronger."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Peter leaned against the wall with one shoulder, pushing against it, determined to stand. Kerry sprang up beside him and, tucking herself under one arm, helped him up.  Back on his feet, Peter walked around the room several times, until he felt more in control of his body.  Sweat shone on his face.

Kerry watched him carefully.  "Should you be moving around?" she asked, concern filling her voice.

"It hurts the same, whether I'm sitting or moving.  And on the whole, I think it would be better if I kept moving."  Straker might be right about the chains, Peter thought, looking down at the flesh that was showing through rips in his borrowed shirt.

Although his whole body ached, and his skin felt like it was throbbing with heat, it didn't feel like any bones or organs had been damaged.  Red welts lay in patterns over the bits he could see, but the bruised skin wasn't bloody.  He was a little dizzy, but that would be the blood pooling in the bruises, since the chains hadn't touched his head.  After the initial shock, the pain was subsiding to a manageable level.  He was going to be interesting shades of purple, green and yellow though in the next few hours.  He had the feeling that he should have been feeling much worse, but...Peter took a deep breath and released it slowly, trying to accept the pain and move beyond it.  Kerry waited.

"How long was I out?" he finally asked, the sensations under control.

Instinctively, Kerry looked down at her left wrist.  "That jerk Green took my watch," she said with a sudden blaze of anger.  "But I think it's been a few hours."

Peter had followed her eyes down to her wrist, and he noticed a strip of cloth wrapped around her two middle fingers.  Reaching out, he gently took her hand in his own.  "Did he really break it?"

Kerry's breath hitched.  "I think so," she said.  "I couldn't find any kind of splint, so I pulled the bottom off my sweatshirt and wrapped it up.  I figured that the other finger might help keep it straight.  It doesn't hurt or anything though.  Well, not much," she amended at Peter's look.  "This doesn't matter compared to what they did to you."  Tears threatened to spill at the memory.

Uncomfortable, they both looked away from each other.

"Who are these guys?" Kerry asked.  "What do they want?"

Peter wiped his forehead.  "Old enemies," he said grimly, "of both my families.  It's a really long story."  He shook his head.  "I don't know what they want though, beyond getting three people I care about here.  It could just be revenge, but knowing Straker, he must have some kind of purpose.  I'm sorry I got you involved."

"It's not your fault," Kerry protested.  He looked so guilty, she wanted to take him into her arms and reassure him that everything would be fine.  She prayed that everything would be fine...

"Just before Straker...started, you know," Peter said awkwardly, "he said something about me not contacting my friends?  What was that all about?"

Kerry nodded.  "When we were coming here, he asked me who you called from my parent's house.  I told him that you fell asleep as soon as we got there, so you didn't call anyone."  At Peter's approving glance, she blushed.  "Well, I figured the less he knew about the cavalry coming to the rescue, the better off we would be."

"You weren't in the back of the truck with me.  Where were you?"

Kerry shuddered.  "I was in the cab, stuffed in back of his seat.  There's not a lot of room back there.  That awful man, the whole time he was either laughing or gloating, or asking me questions about you.  What's going to happen next?" she asked in a small voice, watching his face.

Peter looked down.  His long lashes veiled any expression in his eyes.  "It's going to get worse," he warned.  "Straker won't stop.  The more connection he sees between us, the more he'll use that against both of us."  He froze as the door began to open.
 

Part 11

Dawn.  Kermit glared up at the sky and wondered why the sun couldn't come up sooner.  Last night, he had reluctantly agreed that it was too dark to search for Peter; flashlights would only make them visible to their enemies.  Kim asked them to stay at the house, so they could leave at the crack of dawn.  In Kermit's mind, it just wasn't soon enough.

Caine walked out the door; Kermit looked at the dark circles under his eyes and wondered.  Just after they had been forced by circumstances to wait until morning, Peter's father had abruptly left the others, to meditate, he had said.
Kermit had his doubts.  Caine had looked too much like he was reliving a nightmare of Peter's.

Kim appeared, holding Maggie's leash in one hand-a muzzle was in her pocket.  She hated to even bring it, but Maggie's barks could disrupt any chance they might have of surprising the kidnappers.  They had decided to leave the other two dogs behind, since they would be a distraction.

"Are we ready?" Kermit asked.  He looked them over.

Caine, through drawn, looked much the same as always; maybe the mysterious pouch bulged a little more than usual.  Kim had bound her long hair in a single braid down her back.  She was wearing jeans, hiking boots and a wool jacket.  Maggie had on a harness, so they could restrain her more easily if she pulled.  The tags on her collar had been removed so she wouldn't make jingling noises at an inappropriate time.

Kermit looked down at himself.  He had made a concession to the terrain; instead of his usual blue suit, he wore black jeans, a sweater and a leather jacket.  On his feet were brown boots.  Concealed about his person were a variety of weapons.  The Desert Eagle was in a holster under his jacket.  He knew Kim had a police-issue revolver in a waistband holster.  He thought he saw her tucking a small-caliber pistol into her boot, but wasn't positive.

She brushed by him.  "So?  What are we waiting for?" she snapped.  "Maggie, find Kerry.  Where's Kerry?" she asked the dog.  Maggie put her nose to the ground and started sniffing.  She stopped behind Kim's truck and whined.

"This won't work," Kermit growled.  "They left her in a truck.  The tracks are clear.  That dog can't follow a truck, and there's no way she can figure out to go back in the woods where your sister found Peter yesterday."

"She's a smart dog," Kim countered, trying to believe.

"She's not trained." Kermit said with frustration.  He knew that the dog was their best chance, but he just didn't believe that a pet could perform under these circumstances.

"We are all...worried," Caine said, walking between the two arguing law enforcement officers to kneel down before the dog.  He put one hand under her muzzle and looked into her eyes.  "You must find Kerry.  Find Peter."
He pulled a pink sock out of the pouch; a pink sock stained with blood and stretched to its limits.  He held it under the dog's nose.  "They are in danger."  Maggie's head tilted to one side as she studied Caine; he stared at her intently.  She whined once more, sniffing the sock.  The dog then stood up and began walking purposefully down the driveway.  Kim followed the tug of the leash.

Kermit stared at Caine.  Caine shrugged.  "The dog wants to find her mistress as much as we want to find Peter.  She was just...not sure of what we wanted her to do."

"And you told her?" Kermit asked incredulously.

"Yes." Cain's head dipped.

"Come on, or you'll get left behind!" Kim called from halfway across the field.  Without another word, the two men followed, Kermit still shaking his head.

**

In an hour, Maggie had reached a stream and jumped across it, then sat in the middle of the trail, panting and looking up at Caine.  She was no longer on the leash.  She seemed content to stay within reach of the priest.

"This is the place where Kerry found Peter," Caine stated, studying the ground around the dog.  He closed his eyes and touched the damp earth.  "Peter had collapsed from exhaustion.  The three dogs found him lying here, Kerry was out of sight on the other side of the stream."

Kim looked at the trail.  "How does he know all that?" she asked Kermit.  To her eyes, there was no difference in the trail, no footprints, no paw prints, no pieces of pink wool, nothing.  She studied Caine's face.  He seemed relaxed, confident.

"He can feel Peter's chi," Kermit answered absently, scanning the trail ahead with narrowed eyes.  It looked no different from the path they had just traversed.

"Peter's chi."  Kim stated, nodding.  "Of course.  That explains everything."  She looked from Caine, still communicating with the earth, to Kermit, with his eyes hidden behind the ever-present green glasses.  "Is everyone in Sloanville mysterious, or are you two special?" she asked finally, with irritation.

"We're special," Kermit nodded, "...but he's mysterious, I'm just dangerous."  He pulled down his glasses and let her see his eyes.  "I thought you understood this last night; Caine is a Shaolin priest.  I can't explain everything that means, because I don't understand it myself.  All you need to know is that he has a kind of sixth sense, maybe even a seventh sense, that allows him to do things that other people can't.  One of those things is communicating with his son.

"I'm still trying to figure out the dog thing," he added thoughtfully, pushing the glasses back into place.

Kim put her hands on her hips.  "Okay, so you believe him."

"Oh yeah.  I would trust him with my life," Kermit said gravely, "and have."

Caine stood, breaking up their conversation.  "Peter walked for quite some time before he reached this place," he announced.  "We must go quickly to reach him in time."

"In time for what?" Kim asked, anticipating the worst.

"I do not know," Caine shrugged, turned, and started up the trail.  Maggie trotted at his side.

"You'll get used to it." Kermit sighed, pulling Kim to follow.
 
 

Part 12

As the door opened, Peter tried to push Kerry away from him; to stand and face whatever was coming alone.  She, however, stayed close, keeping one supporting hand on his arm.

Straker walked through the door followed by one of his men.  "Awake already?" he asked with mock surprise.  "My men must be slipping."  He strode towards his prisoners with confidence.

"What do you want now, Straker?" Peter asked tightly.  He braced his still-aching body against a new attack.  He spoke to Straker, but tried to keep both men in his sight.

Straker brushed past him.  "Nothing to do with you, Caine.  I just want to talk to your little girlfriend."

"Leave her alone."  Peter moved, trying to keep between Straker and Kerry.

Straker motioned impatiently to the man standing behind him.  "What do I pay you for?  Will you keep him out of my way?"  The other man grabbed Peter's arm and pushed him against the wall.  Peter gasped as his bruised flesh reacted to this new assault.  He struggled briefly, but stopped as his arm was twisted behind his back and he was held firmly in place.  He was pinned by the man's weight and the weakness in his own body.

Straker halted before Kerry, blocking her view of Peter.  "You've been keeping secrets," he scolded.

Kerry took a step backwards, shaking her head.  "No I haven't," she protested.  The only questions Straker had asked her, other than her name, were about Peter.  Since she didn't know anything, how could she be hiding anything?

Straker moved towards her, smiling.  "Yes, you have.  Your sister is a local cop, isn't she?"  He cocked his head to one side, regarding her reaction.

Kerry stopped as her back hit the wall.  She looked at Peter, now back in her sight, who shook his head slightly.  "No," she said, her voice shaking slightly, hoping she had interpreted his gesture correctly.

"Don't lie to me, girl," Straker said coldly.  "I'm not happy with you after last evening."

Kerry licked her lips and closed her eyes.  It seemed that Straker knew it already anyway, time to tell the truth.  "Okay, yes.  She's a Deputy."  She knew it was a mistake as soon as the words left her mouth.

Eyebrows raised, Straker drew one finger along her jaw.  She shivered.  "So I assume it's safe to say that your disappearance will not pass unnoticed," he asked smoothly.

"I guess," Kerry agreed uneasily.  <Where was this going?>

She flinched as Straker threw his hands in the air.  "What is this world coming to?  You grab and innocent bystander, and she turns out to be related to the local cops."  Kerry pulled away from the look in his eyes.  Quickly, she dropped her gaze to the floor, not willing to chance meeting the madness.

Straker whirled around to stand beside Peter.  The man holding him turned him away from the wall and towards Straker without prompting.  Jabbing one finger into Peter's chest, Straker leaned in close to hiss into his ear.  "There's no way around it, this morning's lesson will have to wait."  He looked into Peter's expressionless face, eyes hooded and brooding.  "Don't think that this is a good reprieve," he warned.  Peter met his gaze without fear.

Straker's rage built and he backhanded the younger man across the face angrily.  "We're leaving in an hour.  Dustin, get them ready."  He stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
 

Dustin released his hold.  Peter turned and measured him, obviously calculating his chances.  "Don't do anything dumb, kid," Dustin warned, "I'm on your side."

"Oh, and I should believe that."  Peter scoffed, rubbing his sore shoulder.

"Yeah, you should," the man said in a slow drawl.  Peter took a second look at him, and remembered him as the merc from the van who had watched him when all the others looked away.  Cautiously, he opened his mind to the chance that this guy might be willing to help.

"Listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this one time," Dustin said cautiously, moving to keep one eye on the door.  "I owe Paul Blaisdell a great deal, and today, I'm going to repay him.  Straker plans to move you two a couple hundred miles from here."

Peter's heart raced.  If that happened, rescue would be a remote possibility, at least for awhile.  "Where is he taking us?"

"Doesn't matter.  You're going to escape before we leave."
 

"Will this work?" Kerry whispered.  Peter was surprised that he could hear her through the heavy cloth bags over both their heads.

"Of course," Peter answered with confidence.  "It better," he muttered under his breath, fumbling with the handcuff key Dustin had given him.  He wished he could unlock the cuffs as easily as his father would have, but his Shaolin abilities seemed to have deserted him.

Manipulating the key would be easier if he could see, but his hands were behind his back, so cuffs first, bag second.  He felt the key slide into the lock and turn.  Suddenly his hands fell free.  Reaching up, he untied the knot that kept the heavy bag secure over his head.  That left only his feet to untie before he moved to free Kerry.

"Thanks," she gasped as he pulled off the bag.  "It was getting hard to breathe.  Can you see?"

Peter's eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the van.  "A little."  He unlocked Kerry's cuffs and got the ropes off her feet.  Moving with his hands out, he touched the door of the van.  With probing fingers, he reached the latch that held it closed.  They waited for the signal.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably less than ten minutes, the van swerved to the right and slowed to a crawl.  "Ready?"  He felt Kerry nod.  As the van started to pick up speed again, he pushed the latch and opened the door a crack.  As Dustin had promised, there were no vehicles behind them.  Through the cracked open door, he could see no sign of Straker's men on the remote road.  Kerry moved in front of him and dropped out of the slow moving van and onto the road.  Peter jumped behind her.  As he let go of the door, he pushed it back, hoping the latch would catch and hold.  The van accelerated and moved away.

Rolling to the edge of the road, Peter winced as each rock he touched seemed to hit a bruise.  Kerry was waiting for him in the tall grass.  "So far, so good," she whispered.  Peter nodded.   They stayed in the grass for a few minutes, waiting and watching.

"Okay, seems to be safe enough.  Let's go."  Together, they turned their backs on the road and began their trek down the mountain.
 

Part 13

"I'm beginning to hate trees." Kermit muttered, as they detoured around another fallen log.  Kim snorted.
"I can't believe that your friend made it as far as he did, if he was in as bad shape as you say."  She surveyed the woods around them.  They had left the path about forty minutes earlier and were following Maggie, who was taking frequent sniffs at the pink sock.  Because they weren't on a trail, the deadfall from winter made progress slow.
Kermit looked at where they had been, and had to admit that Kim was right.  Peter had traversed some amazing territory; no wonder he had collapsed of exhaustion short of his goal.  "Yeah, well when Peter decides to do something, he generally does it.  He also had some pretty convincing motivation."

"Hmmm," Kim agreed, staring at the dog.  Maggie had suddenly tensed, every muscle in her body rigid.  Along her spine, a ridge of hair was standing straight up.  A rumble started deep in her throat.

Almost in slow motion, Kwai Chang Caine reached over to touch the dog.  As one hand lightly rested on her head, Maggie visibly relaxed.  Caine turned and motioned to his two human companions.  They crept up beside him.  Silently, they moved up the small incline and peered over.

They looked down into a walled fortress only a few feet below them.  In the center was an enormous brick house, with bars on almost every window.  Surrounding the house were stone walls at least sixteen feet high, with spiked fencing at the top.  The massive gate had a sentry box outside the wall.

"What is this?" Kermit hissed.  He wasn't expecting an answer, but Kim provided him with one.

"Some crazy rock star built it about twenty years ago.  The guy was nuts about security.  He spent millions on it, then his records went down the charts and he lost the property."  She explained.  "That was about five years ago.  The bars and spikes are new."

Kermit shook his head.  "Unbelievable.  I don't suppose you've been in there?"

"No," Kim said with real regret.  "When I was in high school, we used to come up, but we just walked around the outside perimeter.  We never found a way in.  I can tell you that the road that leads up here is practically non-existent.  The guy who owned it and his friends came in and out by helicopter."

"The road is there, and it has been traveled recently," Caine stated, nodding towards the dirt track.  Neither Kermit nor Kim questioned the truth of his statement.

"Look!" Kim whispered, pointing down into the space in front of the enormous front door.

A black van pulled up and stopped.  Three men jumped out and began loading boxes into the back.  One man was grumbling the entire time.  All three listeners strained to catch the monologue.

"I can't believe this," he was complaining to his companions.  "We just got here and already he's got us moving out.  I feel like a packhorse!  'Move the supplies in, Trask.  Get the basement ready, Trask.  Move the prisoners out, Trask.  Pack the supplies for our trip, Trask.  Join us later, Trask'" he mimicked.  "How come I'm always getting things ready or taking them apart?"

"Maybe because you've got a big mouth and nobody wants to be near you?" one of the other men asked dryly.
Up on the hill, Kermit commented; "That kid doesn't have many prospects in this line of work.  He talks more than Peter."

"Shhh!"  Kim hissed.  "What did he just say about prisoners?"

The third man had looked at the other two.  "Would both of you shut up and keep moving.  I told Straker we would catch up with the prisoner's transport.  He doesn't like having them unguarded."

"They're drugged to the gills," Trask scoffed.  "I saw Dustin do it myself.  Then, we tied them up for good measure.  Even if they do wake up, there's no way they can escape.  Straker's paranoid.  If he's so concerned, how come he didn't ride with them?"

"He likes his comfort, Straker does," the second man said.  "Prisoners or not, he's not about to ride for four hours in the back of a van...or in the front for that matter.  No, he'll take the helicopter and meet them at the destination.  To tell you the truth, I'm a little surprised he didn't just have the helicopter take the prisoners out."

"Landing pad's off the property at the other end.  Nosy airport personnel," the third man explained.  He looked at the two lagging workers and finally exercised his authority.  "Now shut up and load!"  The two underlings renewed their efforts.

"They've moved them already," Kim said, appalled.  "We've go to do something!"

"Yeah, like go down and ask those three some questions."  Kermit reached into his jacket, only to be stopped by a gentle touch.

"No.  Peter and Kerry have...escaped.  They are on the mountain.  We will find them."

"Escaped?"

"Yes."  Caine nodded firmly.  Since he had shared his chi to help his son heal, he had reforged the link between them.  Right now, it was a one-way communication, but he knew that this would change.  Whatever had been used to keep them apart was vanishing.  The feeling of his son's presence was like a beacon in the darkness.  "They are travelling across a clearing.  They are some distance ahead of us.  We must go now."  The priest turned and strode off purposefully through the woods.

Kermit pulled the hand away from the Desert Eagle and started to move after Caine.  Kim reached out to grab his coat.  "Wait!  You mean we're going to just set out through the woods and leave these...kidnappers behind because he's seen a vision?"

"Do you have a better plan?"

"No."  Kim said, angry and confused.

Kermit's voice softened.  "I know you're worried, but trust me, if Caine says Peter is ahead, he is.  I've seen him find his son with less to go on that what we have."

"Then let's get moving."
 
 

Part 14

Peter and Kerry felt exposed as they dodged around trees and rocks in their flight down the mountain.  At this point, they weren't aiming for any direction, just trying to go as far as they could as fast as they could.  In what felt like days but was probably less than an hour, they had traveled through several acres of woods and two clearings.

"Do you recognize this at all?" Peter asked Kerry, pausing in the second clearing to give them both a chance to catch their breath.

Kerry chewed on her lip as she surveyed the landscape around them.  At any other time, she might be admiring the spectacular view, but right now all she wanted to see was something familiar.  "No," she admitted.  "I think we're on the opposite side of the mountain from my house."

"We could go up and around..."

Kerry shook her head.  "No, I think we're better off just going down.  Eventually, we should come across a hunter's cabin; some of them have phone lines."  She didn't mention that most of them would be turned off at this time of year.  They would have supplies though; food and warmer clothes.  They were lucky that Dustin had given them Peter's boots and coat back, but the sky was becoming overcast; it was getting colder, and it was conceivable that they could still get a snowstorm, despite the previous days' warmth.  Her stomach was grumbling, and Peter couldn't even remember the last time he had eaten.

"How long do you think it will be before they discover we're missing?" she asked, voicing the fear that had been on her mind since they'd escaped the van.

Peter sighed.  "If we're lucky, not until they get to wherever it is they're going.  In reality, I'm not sure the ban door latched when I pushed it shut.  They may already know we're gone."  They considered this for a moment in silence.  "Let's go."

They moved through the woods for another thirty minutes.  Disaster struck as they reached a cliff.
 

It wasn't really a cliff, just a granite outcrop which stopped abruptly at a 20-foot drop.  The woods on either side were dense, full of blackberry brambles and thick bushes.  Kerry cautiously approached the edge and looked down.  The rocks dropped down to a dusty road.

"How do you feel about heights?" she asked Peter.  "I think we can climb down this, if we're really careful."

Peter shifted uncomfortably.  "How big is the drop?" he asked from a safe distance, avoiding the question.

Kerry sat on the edge of the rocky ledge and looked down.  "Not too far.  There's a road down there, it doesn't look like it's used too much.  Maybe it's a driveway to one of those hunter's cabins."  With one foot outstretched, she lowered herself to the next ledge.  She yelped as her broken finger bent unexpectedly, but called back up, "Piece of cake!"

Face white, Peter cautiously approached the drop.  He rubbed suddenly sweaty palms on the thighs of his jeans, looked down and closed his eyes.  'You can do this,' he told himself.  He inhaled deeply and tried to relax.  His eyes were still closed when the first black van drove around the corner.  They flew open at Kerry's sharp intake of breath.
"Shit!" she gasped, turning around and scrambling back towards Peter.  His fear of heights forgotten, he grabbed her arm and yanked her up beside him.  Their movement must have attracted the driver's attention, for the van screeched to a halt.  Doors flew open and three men jumped out.  A second van pulled up behind the first.

"Run!" Peter ordered, pushing Kerry before him.  Behind them, he could hear shouts and muffled curses as the men began scaling the rock formation.

Branches scraped their bodies as they ran full-tilt through the woods.  Kerry started to follow their trail back up the mountain, but to Peter, that direction somehow felt wrong; he grabbed her arm and started pulling her to the left.  They ran along the edge of the thick brambles, avoiding their thorns.  There was no sound of pursuit yet, but they knew it was just a matter of time.

"What are we going to do?" Kerry panted, starting to limp slightly from a stitch in her side.

"Slow down and start thinking," Peter said, stopping.  Kerry went a few more feet then limped back to his side.
"They're definitely in better shape and they outnumber us," Peter continued, "so we have to start being smart."

"Okay," Kerry agreed, "But we'd better be smart and fast.  I don't think we have much time."
 
 

Part 15

"Could we climb a tree?" Kerry asked doubtfully.

"No, we'd be trapped.  Do you see anything that looks like a trail?" Peter asked, eyes searching their surroundings.  The trees were old pines; most of the green needles were high off the ground.  At their level, dead branches poked out, snapping loudly if broken, bruising already stressed bodies as they did so.  The underbrush was thick, but it wouldn't hide their presence.  It was still early spring and leaves weren't out yet; there was no cover to hide behind.

"That could be a deer trail," Kerry said, pointing at a thread of a path, "but if it is, it probably only winds around through the woods and doesn't go anywhere."

"It's better than nothing," Peter said, propelling Kerry down the trail in front of him.  He reached back and twisted some of the thicker brambles over the place they had entered the trail, hoping that it would confuse their pursuers.  He wiped blood from the resulting scratches on his shirt as he followed Kerry.  They were practically bent over double as they followed the narrow path into the undergrowth.  Peter listened for sounds of pursuit, but couldn't hear an above the sound of his own movement.

"Try not to make so much noise," Kerry whispered over her shoulder.  "If you kind of slide your feet along, you're less likely to break twigs."  Peter tried it and found she was right.  Moving as rapidly as they could, they made their way down the trail.  Not far ahead of them, a clearing appeared.

Crouching so that their heads were no higher than the brush around them, they peered out into the clearing.  At one side was a small pond, obviously the deer's destination.  On the other side was the back of a structure.

"I think it's a cabin.  Do we go for it?" Kerry breathed.

Peter looked around.  There was no sound of movement, other than their own.  "Yeah, we do," he answered.  Not that they had stopped, he could hear faint echoes of voices coming from somewhere behind them, closer than he would like.

Feeling like the deer that used this trail, they ran across the clearing, keeping low.  In mutual accord, they passed the part of the house that faced the clearing and ran around to the other side, in the shadow of the woods.

The door was locked.  Peter was checking out the windows, trying to see which would be the easiest way to break in when Kerry held up a key.  "It was under the flower pot," she explained, inserting it into the lock.  The door swung open and they slipped inside.  Kerry relocked the door behind them.

The cabin consisted of one large room downstairs, furnished with mismatched furniture.  There was a small kitchen off to the right, and a ladder leading to a second floor.  A bedroom, separated by a thin curtain was to the left.  Through the doorway, Peter could see bunk beds built into the walls.  Kerry scrambled up the ladder, wincing as she grasped the rungs.

"Nothing up here but beds," she called down, looking around the room.  More bunk beds were built into the rafters.  There were a few trunks situated around the room.  Moving to the first one, she threw it open and started tossing blankets and linens onto the nearest bed, hoping to find something useful inside.

Peter was doing the same downstairs, opening drawers and looking for something, anything, useful.  He found games, cards, flashlights, and canned food, but no weapons.  There were three cans of warm cola.  He opened and drank one, knowing the liquid sugar would help restore his dangerously depleted energy level.  He put the other two aside for Kerry.  A gun rack was mounted over the fireplace, but there was no sign of any rifles anywhere.  He found the broom and shovel to a fireplace set, but no poker.  Behind the couch, he found the closest thing to a weapon in the house-a baseball bat.

Kerry came down to the second floor with a tennis racket.  "This was the only thing I could find," she said hopelessly.  "There's no phone either."

"I noticed," Peter replied, running one hand through his hair.  "Well, we have two options; we try to hide here, or we leave, follow the road and hope we don't run into Straker's men."

"Do you think they're close?" Kerry asked.

Peter shrugged, not wanting to lie.  "I heard them, but who knows how far sound carries in the woods."

"Not far enough," Kerry said glumly.  "I don't like being stuck here, though.  If we keep moving, maybe they won't catch up."

"We can hope," Peter said with a sigh.  Picking up the baseball bat, he led the way out of the cabin, only to be stopped by the ghost of a sound on the other side of the wall.
 
 

Part 16

"Are we almost there?" Kim asked.  "Wherever 'there' is," she muttered under her breath.  With every minute that passed, she couldn't help but feel that her sister was getting further and further away, no matter what Caine said.  Frustration made her grumble.  Maggie came back to push under her hand.  Absently, she rubbed the dog's ears as they walked.

"We are...there." Caine replied softly, looking through the bare trees.  Kim followed his glance and saw two men dressed just like the men at the house creeping through a break in the woods ahead.  One was speaking quietly into a cellular phone.

Her heart began to pound.  "We must be close," she exclaimed in a whisper, "Finally."  She pulled her gun, only to have Caine frown at her.

"Put the weapon away," he said.  "If you fire, you will alert the others to our presence.  We must remove as many of them as possible without noise.  Those two men are not alone."

Kim put the gun away, knowing he was right, and looked around for Kermit, but he had already melted into the trees.  When she turned back to Caine, he, too, was gone.  Irritated at being left behind, she grabbed Maggie's collar and watched the men.

The man with the cellular flipped it closed and put it in a pocket.  He spun away from his partner, as if checking out a movement to his right.  Kim didn't see where Caine came from, but he was suddenly behind the man, gripping his shoulder firmly.  The man opened his mouth wide, but crumpled to the ground without a sound, falling into an ungraceful heap.

The second man whipped out a gun, aiming towards Caine.  With a single fluid movement, Caine kicked the weapon from his hand.  Kermit erupted from the undergrowth and grabbed the man from behind, one arm across his windpipe, preventing him from talking or breathing.  The second man also slumped to the ground, unconscious.  It had all taken less than a minute.

"Huh!" Kim exclaimed, impressed despite herself.  Beside her, Maggie tensed, a low rumble coming from her throat.  Kim threw herself to the side just as Maggie launched herself at a dark shape looming behind her.

Snarling, Maggie landed on the man's chest, knocking him off his feet.  His gun flew out of his hand as he lost his balance and his grip.  Kim seized the gun in midair and jumped, pushing Maggie off the man and landing where the dog had been.  What breath he had left after the dog's attack was knocked out of him when she landed.  She noted his gun had a silencer and stuck the barrel under the man's chin.  "Where is my sister?' she growled, clicking the safety off.

"I'd tell her," Kermit recommended in a conversational tone, coming up behind her, hauling the man he'd choked into unconsciousness behind him.  "She's a little pissed off about that missing sister.  I'm not sure we can hold her back."  Kim looked at her prisoner with a predatory grin.  This was a routine she knew.  Behind Kermit, Caine followed, his man over his shoulder.

The man on the ground was still wheezing for breath.  "Don't...know," he gasped.  His eyes moved rapidly between the faces hovering over him.

"How about we start with an easier question then?" Kermit asked, casually tossing his burden beside the fallen man.  "How many of you are here in the woods searching for our friends?"

"Just the three of us," their prisoner gasped.

"Try again," Kermit grated as Kim pushed the barrel harder against the prisoner's throat.  He pulled away from the pressure, but he could not escape from it.

"Besides the three of us, three others on foot," the man babbled, looking into the grim faces.

"Much better," Kermit purred.  "Now, where's Straker?"

Looking like he was about to choke, the man cried out in protest.  "I can't tell you.  He'd kill me."

"We'll kill you if you don't," Kim said, her eyes gleaming dangerously.

"I don't believe you.  You're cops," the prisoner protested.  "You can't kill me."

Kermit just looked at him.  "Where is Straker?" he repeated evenly, no expression in his voice or on his face.
The man on the ground blanched.  With a gulp, he gave in.  "Straker's in the van with the driver.  They're heading for a cabin nearby.  Your friends are inside."

"Where's the cabin?"  As the merc eagerly gave Kermit the information, Kim looked around.  Caine was gone.
 
 

Part 17

Peter backed away from the door, motioning Kerry to go up the ladder.  After one frantic glance around the cabin, looking for something, anything he might have missed, he moved beside the door, baseball bat in hand.  The door handle jiggled, and stopped.  Peter could hear his own breathing sounding loud in the silence.  Kerry peered at him from the second floor opening.  Would they go away?

The door was kicked open.

Swinging the baseball bat like he was aiming for a home run, Peter hit the first man through the doorway just under his ribcage.  He heard something snap.  With a choked cry, the man staggered backwards and fell outside.  A second man leaped over the first and towards Peter as the detective was pulling back the bat.  Ducking, Peter grabbed the man's shirt front with one hand and helped continue the leap, letting the mercenary's own momentum send him to land in a heap in the middle of the cabin.

While he had been doing that, though, a third man had grabbed the bat.  Peter recognized the grey-haired merc from before.  He regained his hold and thrust the bat towards the grey-hiared man's stomach, but the man dodged and kept his grip.  Grimly, Peter held on, aiming a kick at the other man's knee.  That missed too, and Peter could feel the power of the other's grip.

There was a noise behind him, and Peter glanced back to see Green, the man who had landed behind him, rising to his feet.  The man on the other end of the bat could see him too, and he grinned at Peter.  "You're gonna be soooo sorry," he threatened, the confidence in his voice making Peter shiver involuntarily.

Green approached from behind just as Peter released his grip on the bat and pushed it aside.  A quick elbow to Green's face knocked him backwards; he then came up under the man in the doorway's guard. Peter thrust forward to strike with the heel of his open hand at the man's chest, then hooked his leg around the legs of the man, who was still holding the bat, and yanked, pulling him off his feet.  Face full of astonishment, the man fell, hitting his head on the edge of the doorframe he landed on the ground unconscious.

Peter landed on the floor beside him, looking up at Green, who grinned with anticipation at the helpless man lying before him.  Grunting with pain as Green kicked his ribs, Peter's glance moved past Green to Kerry, coming down the ladder, tennis racket over her head.  With a two-fisted grip, she closed her eyes and brought the edge of the racket down on Green's head.  There was a dull thud of impact, then Green fell, landing on top of Peter.  He didn't move.

Peter pushed Green off and slowly got to his feet.  Kerry opened her eyes and unsteadily made her way into his arms.  "Did I kill him?" she asked faintly.

"No," Peter answered, hugging her, not knowing who was supporting whom and not caring in the slightest.
"I certainly hope not," a voice from the doorway said.  Kerry started, but Peter knew who would be standing there when he turned around.

Straker walked into the cabin, tsking as he surveyed his men lying strewn about the small room.  "Good help is so hard to find these days," he said, shaking his head.

He turned to glare at Peter.  "*You* are turning out to be a bigger pain in the ass than your father," he stated, jabbing a finger in the air.  "You're not quite as good as he is though.  We discovered you little escape before we even got out of state.  So, we turned back and found you perched on that ledge.  You lose.  Come on, let's go," he said impatiently, gesturing with one hand.

Peter looked at Straker, then around at the men he and Kerry had defeated.  "We're not going anywhere," he stated calmly.  "Your little operation is finished.  I refuse to be bait; to lure the three men I love most into your hands for your depraved games."

Straker's face turned crimson with badly suppressed fury.  "Depraved?" he said, voice rising.  "Games?  This is no game, Peter Caine.  You will come with me."

Peter shrugged.  "how will you make us?  Your men are gone, Straker.  Defeated.  You thought I was a pawn to be manipulated on your twisted game board.  I'm not.  My fathers, all three of them," he added with a quick smile, throwing Straker's words back in his face, "have taught me well."

Straker sneered.  "They have taught you nothing.  You are still my prisoner."  Satisfaction filled his eyes as he pulled a gun out of his coat.  Kerry gasped.  Peter remained quiet, concentrating.

<Pop?>

<You can do it, Peter.>  The calm reply filled his mind.

The gun turned a burning red.  Straker threw it from his hand with an exclamation of pain.  He looked at his men lying on the floor.  "This is not over," he warned, "Don't think that it will ever be over."  Somehow managing to look like he was leaving of his own volition, he turned and left the cabin.  Peter and Kerry heard the sound of an engine starting, then tires spinning as the van was gunned down the dirt driveway.

"Should we let him go?" Kerry ventured.

"Did you want to stop him?" Peter responded, eyebrows raised.

Kerry shook her head as she moved away from Peter.  Without her support, he staggered slightly.  Kerry helped ease him into a chair.  "What was that? She asked, eyes wide with astonished surprise as she motioned towards the gun.  Peter opened his mouth to speak, but another voice spoke first.

"It was a...Shaolin technique."
 
 

Part 18

Kerry turned, fear coming into her eyes.  Peter grabbed her arm as she reached for the tennis racket.  "Kerry, meet my father, " he said, relief filling his face.  "Pop, my...friend, kerry."  Caine bowed to her.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance," he said gravely.

"Likewise," Kerry said uncertainly.  This man with graying hair and kind eyes certainly didn't look like a mercenary, so he must be 'the mystic Shaolin priest' Straker had mentioned.  She drew back slightly as he came to stand before his son.

"Pop, am I glad to see you!" Relief and happiness filled Peter's voice.  "How long have you been there?  Never mind, it was long enough for you to help defeat Straker."

"I did not see Straker," Caine said calmly, surveying the various bruises on the visible parts of his son's body.  Placing one hand on his son's chin, he moved Peter's head so that he could more closely examine some of the bruises.  Peter kept talking, paying no attention to these ministrations.

"You must have.  You did the Shaolin thing," Peter continued, remember the gun Straker had thrown away.

"Did...what...Shaoling thing?" Caine asked, reaching into his pouch.

"You know, the burning gun," Peter said before he obediently opened his mouth to accept the herbs Caine was insistently holding in front of his lips.

Kwai Chang Caine shook his head as he began running his hands over the rest of his son's body, a few inches away from the surface.  "No.  You did it Peter.  The need was great, so you found the...means."

"I did it?" Peter asked, sounding stunned.

"Yes.  You are hurt, Peter."

Peter grimaced.  "Yeah, well, I've been worse.  It's nothing a few days sleep can't cure.  Pop, can you help Kerry?  She has a broken finger."  The older man inclined his head and looked to Kerry.

"It's really nothing," Kerry protested.  She stood still as Caine took her hand in his own and unwrapped the very dirty cloth.  Regarding the bare finger, he closed his eyes, and she felt both his warm hands around hers.  When he released her, the finger felt...better.

"Thanks!" she said, wiggling it back and forth.  It felt almost healed.  She looked at peter's father with amazement.

"You are...most welcome," he said with a smile.  The warmth of his smile wrapped around her like a blanket, and she felt herself begin to relax for the first time in...  Well, for the first time since she had met Peter.

Peter ran a hand through his hair.  "So Pop, how did you get up here?"

"I...walked."

Peter laughed.  "No really, you couldn't have..."

A howling moan startled them all, then a black shape ran through the open doorway and across the room, landing on Kerry and knocking her to the floor.  She laughed as her lap was full of squirming, happy, howling dog.  Maggie pushed against her, licking any skin she could reach between howls.

"Having a little clean up problem in here?" Kermit walked cautiously into the cabin, gun drawn, followed by a similarly armed woman Peter didn't recognize.

"Oh yeah," Peter intoned, grinning around his father at his friend.

"Kerry!" the woman cried.

"Kim!" Kerry called back.  Kim dropped to her knees beside her and they hugged.  Maggie's whole body wagged as she leapt around them.

"Sister."  Kermit explained succinctly, following the direction of Peter's gaze.  "You look like shit, kid."

"That's pretty much the way I feel," Peter said with a sigh.  He watched as Caine moved between the unconscious men on the ground.  Despite what they had done, he hoped he hadn't injured any of them permanently.

"They will all...live." Caine announced, "but we must get them medical attention."

"On the way over here, we found some transportation.  One black van coming up." Kermit said.  "There was a driver in it, but he saw the error of his ways."

"Straker?" Peter asked, hoping.

Kermit shook his head.  "Nope.  Just some nameless pawn."

Peter roused himself enough to frown at Kermit.  "They're not nameless."

Looking at his weary friend, Kermit's voice softened.  "Sorry, Peter.  You're right.  We'll find out his name and story later."

"There's rope in the kitchen drawer," Peter offered, as Kermit picked up Green and dragged him out the door.
Peter leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling secure for the first time in a week.  He was asleep in minutes.  When the van was ready to go, no one had the heart to waken him, so his father carried him out of the cabin and into the waiting transportation.
 
 

Epilogue

"My parents are coming back tomorrow," Kerry said, watching as Peter finished caulking the last pane of glass in place.  The French doors were finished.

It had been a week since Peter had been carried from the cabin to the van.  When they had returned to the house, Peter had been transferred from the van to the master bedroom.  He slept for twenty-four hours.  After a meal and a shower, he had gone back to bed for another twelve hours.  He was still sleeping eight to ten hours a day.

After dropping off the prisoners at a nearby hospital and making the appropriate security arrangements with the local police, Kermit had returned to the house.  He stayed the first two days to make sure that Peter would be fine, they had left to take care of some mysterious business having to do with Straker.  He hadn't volunteered any information, and none of the others had asked.  Through the local grapevine, Kerry had discovered that the men in the hospital had been transferred to and undisclosed location.

Kim had stayed a day longer than Kermit, worried about her sister.  Kerry managed to convince her to go back to work and just check in occasionally.  Occasionally had turned out to be threee to five phone calls a day.  Kerry saw more of her sister in the next forty eight hours than she had in the last forty eight days.

Kerry spent much of that time with Caine, who had remained at the house with his son.  They had walked the dogs frequently, and after some coaxing, Caine had told Kerry of his life in Chinatown.  She was fascinated with the apothecary, and had taken him into the woods to search for herbs.  In return, he had begun instructing her in their uses.

When Peter managed to finally stay awake, he had insisted on repairing the French doors.  Somehow, that short project had extended his stay for the full week her parents were away.  In addition to repairing the doors, he and Caine had also painted the porch and replaced broken windows in the barn.

Kerry objected, but Peter had insisted.  Caine had pulled her aside to tell her that he wanted to give his son time to recover in a peaceful setting.  Kerry figured out for herself that without something to keep him busy, Peter wouldn't stay in one place long enough to allow his body time to heal.  She had spent the time helping with the various projects and trying to get to know Peter.  Now the last task was finished, and he was about to leave.

"I wish you could stay," she said impulsively.  He had been friendly, but distant all week, like she was a glass figure he might break.

"You do?" Peter asked, sounding slightly surprised.

"Well, of course.  I...really like...being with you."  Kerry said, looking up into the hazel eyes.

"Oh." Peter said blankly.  "I thought that you would run screaming in the other direction, given the chance."

"Why?  Because you're a cop?"  Impatience entered Kerry's voice.  "My sister is a cop too, remember.  I know what it's like.  If it's because of what happened this week, you know that wasn't your fault."  She glared at Peter.
He looked abashed.  "Well...I thought...You..." he was tripping over his tongue, face turning slightly pink with embarrassment.  "After all you went through because of me..."

"I won't break."  Kerry said firmly.  "I can hold my own, even if all I have is a tennis racket," she added, hoping the reminder would help rattle whatever picture he had built up in his mind of her.  She took a step towards him.
"You won't?" Peter asked, a smile stealing across his face.  He bent down towards her.

"Nope," she said, putting her hands on his shoulders.  His lips touched hers.
 

"I can't stay," Peter said, some time later.

"Oh."  Kerry said, disappointed.

"Your parents are coming home.  I don't think I want to be around when you explain what you went through this week.  Besides, I have to get back to work," he explained, pulling away from her.

Kerry's frown grew as his excuse went on.

Peter touched her nose with one finger.  "But what are you doing next month?  I was thinking, I have some time built up, and I hear that hiking is fun in this part of the country..."

Inside the house, Kwai Chang Caine smiled.
 

FIN!
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
If you made it this far...sorry about the Mary Sue!  : )  This was my first story, and I guess I just had to get it out of my system.