PAWNS 

by Alisa Joaquin & Linda Schwartz

Prolog

John Miller got up from the game he was playing and scanned the folder that he had been adding to for a year and a half. It had not been easy to acquire the information. When he had first arrived in Toronto, he had almost been discovered, if he hadnt run into a certain police Mountie, who verified his identity, he would have been It had been a rather gutsy move, but apparently the man also had some kind of grudge against the older of his two targets. That least that's what then man known as Peterson has said. Miller had no reason to doubt the man, even though they've known each other for such a short time.

"When are you going to make your move?" the Mountie asked, not referring to the chess game they were currently playing. He had benn waiting for this opportunity, waiting for something solid for several months.

"Soon," said Miller. "My sources say he should be returning within the next week."

"Are you sure this will draw your man out?"

"Positive. But there's one more person we're going to need if this game is going to succeed."

Miller threw a photo down on the board, scattering a couple of pawns in the process. A woman with blond shoulder-length hair and dark glasses looked out toward the photographer, smiling broadly.

"As soon as we have him, we take her. Then the real game will begin."

"How soon with this game start?" the Mounty asked.

"Actually, a few items have already been put into place. As soon as our man leaves Europe, we'll be waiting for him when he arrives. He won't know what hit him until its too late."

***

Peter Caine sat in meditation. He had just come back from the precinct after helping out with a baffling case that had stumped even Kermit. The case had involved more than just your typical thugs and crime-boss and it's resolution had special skills of a Shaolin. But Peter's night was not over yet. He had promised the Ancient he would mix up another batch of a very special tea for a woman undergoing chemotherapy. The tea contained at least 20 different kinds of herbs, some of which he had yet to be gind. The case, however, had taken a toll on his energy and he found that meditation worked to replenish that energy faster than if he had slept six or eight hours. Though, eventually, he was going to need sleep just the same. He could only banish his fatigue so much before it would catch up with him.

Peter let his mind drift and revel in the feel of the universe around him. As he was pulling more energy in, something touched his mind with overtones of an intention that was not good. Someone was planning harm to someone else. Images of darkness washed through him as well as a desparate need to breath. He felt like he was suffocating. Peter tried to focus more closely on the feeling, but it soon vanished as quickly as it had come. As he opened his eyes and a shiver ran through him, as if he had stepped on his own grave.

Part 1

Caine felt frustrated and dismayed. He had been all over France with his father, searching for any trace of the woman in the photograph that had been taken 12 years ago. There was none. It was as if she had never existed. Kwai Chang Caine searched his memories for some explanation. He remembered vividly that Laura had died in their home with him by her side and Peter sitting on the floor next to him. He had held her hand in his and had felt her chi fading with each passing moment, as the disease that ravaged her body had taken its toll. He could not stop its advance, only prolong her life until time would finally take her.

Caine again examined the photograph that held the face of his dead wife and suddenly knew the truth. Though the image was good, when he examined it more closely he could see minute areas that did not seem to fit in the background, as if someone had inserted one image inside another. He suddenly wished that Kermit was here. With his knowledge of computer manipulation he would be able to tell with definitive proof whether the image was a fake, or at least tell whether Laura's image had been inserted into this particular photograph. That thought brough to mind several questions. Who would create such a photograph? Who gave the photograph to the Ancient. Why did Lo Si hang on to the photograph for so long? And, more importantly, why? The third question he could possibly ascertain the reason. Knowing Lo Si's secret, it would have been impossible for him to know where Caine was during his wanderings. Perhaps Lo Si had felt that he had not been ready to learn the truth. But what was the truth? Deep down Kwai Chang Caine knew that answer, but had been afraid to even admit it to himself.

Caine heaved a heavy sigh. Perhaps he was looking in the wrong place and the answers that he sought could not be found here.

"You are troubled, my son," Matthew Caine approached with a tray containing a teapot and two cups.

"Yes, my father," Kwai Chang began, "I fear that I may be "wasting my time" as Peter would say."

"To search for truth is never a "waste of time."

"I know, but searching for a woman whom I know in my heart is gone, may very well be," Kwai Chang answered. "I think it is time that I return home. I searched for my son's essence for fifteen years believing he was lost to me. At the time of that loss, I had no body to bury. I had been told that he was gone, but I found him, alive. However, I was by my wife's side when she died. Her essence had returned to the source of all things, but because of the pain that I felt at the loss, I denied it for many years. I do not wish to continue a search that will prove to have no end and lose another fifteen years with my son." Before Caine could stop himself, he saw that his words brought pain to his own father's eyes. "Father, I am sorry. I did not mean to . . ."

"It is all right, my son. The fault is not yours. I should have tried harder to find you after I had healed from my injuries. I should have come when I heard that you had a son and had reentered the temple in America. I was afraid that you would not want me in your life. Too much time had passed. Only after I had heard that your temple had been destroyed and you and Peter were lost did I come, and then it was too late. Never did I expect that you and Peter would be the ones to come to protect the Chalice. To see my son and grandson alive brought me great joy beyond description. But we have also lost much time together, time that we will never regain."

"I am sorry for what happened in the Bardo." Kwai Chang bowed his head in shame.

"You were not yourself, my son." Matthew placed a comforting hand on his son's shoulder.

"Perhaps we were both wrong. It is not too late for matters of the heart between us. You are my father. I have never stopped loving you."

"Nor I you, my son."

Silence fell between them as they sipped their tea.

"When will you be returning home?" Matthew asked.

"Tomorrow."

"There is something I wish to give you and Peter." Matthew handed his son an envelope. "Do not open it here. Open it with your son. Tell my grandson I am proud of him."

Kwai Chang watched his father rise from the table and slowly walk toward his workbench. He could not help notice the slump in his father's shoulders. He knew that his father was disappointed that he was leaving. Though they had spent four months together, it wasn't nearly enough time to get reacquainted. Furthermore, Kwai Chang did not know how much more time he would have with his father. The thought was very sobering and he realized he did not want to be without this man by his side.

"Father, would you return home with me, please?"

Matthew turned toward his son. Tears rimmed his eyes as he realized what his son was asking him. "I have a life . . ."

"Please, father. I have missed you and I do not want us to lose any more time together."

Without another word, Matthew simply smiled and nodded.

****

The trip back home proved uneventful. The two older Caines arrived and entered customs without any trouble.

"I shall see about getting a taxi," Kwai Chang said. "I am glad you had retained your citizenship and your birth certificate so you could acquire a U.S. passport from the embassy. It is good to have you home, Father."

At that moment, a man approached Kwai Chang Caine and handed him a note. He opened the sheet of paper, read what was inside, then looked around for the man to reply but he was gone.

"Father, you had better go on to Chinatown without me. There is something I must do."

Kwai Chang Caine left his father standing by the baggage claim. As Matthew watched his son depart, he wondered what could have caused his son to leave so quickly. Though the question was soon dismissed as he realized that he too had been the same way. Whatever it was, he would find out later. After Matthew Caine had gathered up his belongings and headed out to the curb to flag a taxi, he could not help overhearing a conversation regarding a certain newly-made young Shaolin.

"Jordie, are you sure this is what you want?"

"I don't know, Kelly. Everything has been turned upside down since Peter became Shaolin. I don't know what I want any more. We've had some great times, but lately, all we ever do is argue. I need some time away to think. You know how it is with Peter. He just can't help playing the white knight and trying to protect everyone, even if that person can take care of him or herself."

"Sure, I understand. He's a wonderful guy, but he can certainly drive you crazy with his stunts."

"Well, if you think it was bad when he was a cop, think again. Spider Sects, Shadow Assassins, Singh Wah, it's getting to a point where I can't handle it any more. I don't know what other danger could be lurking in the background to kill him or even me for just associating with him. I need some time away where nobody has ever heard of Shaolin priests and other such things."

"I guess I don't blame you. I'll walk you to your plane."

Matthew shook his head as the two women moved into the terminal. Poor Peter. He could certainly sympathize with much of what the young women were going through. It had been the same for himself. Only Kwai Chang's mother, Su Ling, had been strong enough to face whatever came their way. He hoped that someday his grandson would find such a woman. Just at that moment, the taxi pulled up and Matthew was soon on his way to Chinatown and to his grandson's apartment.

Part 2

Caine headed away from the airport in the direction of the city. The message had only said that someone required his assistance and they lived somewhere out near the airport, the rest had not been so clear. The area around the airport was open and devoid of trees and there were very few residences. As Caine walked toward the city, something about the note bothered him. Who knew that he had returned? He had not sent a message to Peter, though he was sure that his son would soon be aware of his presence; their link being stronger than ever since Peter had become Shaolin. He had only gone about a mile when he felt the danger. He quickly turned to deflect a dart aimed in his direction. Another dart came at him and Caine reacted with speed that defied imagination. Then more darts were coming at him from several directions. Finally, one found its mark and landed in his left thigh. The drug surprisingly took effect far quicker than Caine expected. He found his world becoming hazy and he collapsed onto the side of the road.

"Your Shaolin skills are formidable, but not infallible."

Even through the drug filled haze, Caine sensed his attacker approach. The man's face came into view but it was distorted. Caine thought he knew the man but he could not be sure. His last thought was to berate himself for being so naive at not recognizing the trap sooner. All too soon the darkness claimed him.

"Take him to the van. And keep him sedated."

The man pulled out a map and a manila envelope addressed to Peter Caine, Chinatown.

"The game begins, my friend. Let's see just who can win this match."

****

Peter Caine felt strong arms lift him just before a warm liquid was poured into his mouth. He sputtered at the taste but continued to swallow, feeling the effects of the healing brew. He opened his eyes and stared into the face of his grandfather. Peter did not question how or why Matthew Caine was there, he was just grateful for his grandfather's presence. As Peter let the herbal tea work through him, his awareness of himself and his surroundings came back to him, along with his memories. He had been meditating when he suddenly became aware that his father was returning home. His feelings of joy were suddenly cut off when he felt great danger concerning his father. The next thing Peter knew, he was spinning out of control into darkness. His last moments of awareness were filled with a certainty that his link to his father was gone.

"Something's happened to my father. You've got to help me find him grandfather," Peter said, an urgency edged his voice.

Matthew sighed, "I do not know if I can, my grandson. My skills are not as great as your father's"

Peter bowed his head, tears rimming his eyes as fear for his father's safety threatened to swallow him in its darkness. Matthew felt his grandson's distress.

"Peter, I will do what I can to help. The fact that something has happened to Kwai Chang also disturbs me."

"I'm sorry, Grandfather. You must be feeling more helpless than I am. You're not able to move around as easily."

"I am not totally helpless, my grandson," Matthew countered. "But you are right. You must do all my fighting for me."

At that moment, a noise drew both men's attention. Two men entered the apartment from the balcony and one other entered through the door. They were dressed in black and their faces were covered. Peter reacted immediately, quickly dispatching the first man who came at him and turning toward the second. One of the three men came after Matthew brandishing a club, but the elder Shaolin was able to deflect the blow and used his cane as a means to take down his attacker. Soon all three men were racing from the apartment, their attack thwarted by the two priests.

"All your fighting? I'd say you're pretty good with that cane."

Ignoring Peter's comment, Matthew asked, "Who were those men?"

"I do not know," Peter answered, sounding like his father. "But I'm pretty sure they'll be back."

"Obviously. Could they have played a part in Kwai Chang's disappearance?"

Giving his grandfather a puzzled look, Peter again answered, "I do not know." This time adding a shrug. The question, however, started the young Shaolin to thinking of several possibilities. If the men had played a part in his father's disappearance, why did they attack? Why not simply give him a message? Or more likely, the men may have had nothing to do at all with his father's disappearance; just another Chinatown gang testing their abilities against this newest Shaolin in the community.

Matthew smiled at his grandson's words and gestures. He certainly was a Caine. Then Matthew spotted something by the door that Peter had not. One of the men must have dropped it. The attack could have been a diversion, but why?

"Peter." Matthew handed his grandson the large envelope.

Peter opened it and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. As he opened it, a second slip of paper dropped onto the floor. Examination of the first sheet proved to be a map of the city, but this map had some extra lines drawn on it. The additional markings divided the city into 64 squares, making it look like a strange checkerboard. Upon closer inspection, letters and numbers also appeared to have been penciled into the corners of each square. After scanning its contents, Matthew handed Peter the slip he had picked up off of the floor.

"Are you game for a rematch Caine? Your first clue. PK4. Don't you hate being late for a funeral?

M"

Peter stared at the note and then turned back to the "board." Whoever M was, he knew that person was playing a deadly game, one that Peter had to win at all cost.

Part 3

Peter read the note and stared blankly at the map. It had been a long time since he played chess. He wasn't even sure he could remember any of the moves, let alone the intricate layout of the board.

"Grandfather, have you played chess? I can't remember what PK4 stands for. It's been too long."

Matthew spread the map out on the workbench so that it laid flat. He went to the shelf and picked up a box that he recognized all too well, though Peter stared at him in surprise. His grandfather should not have even known what to look for, much less where to find the item in an apartment he had never been in before.

"The box holds some of your father's chi," Matthew said, answering Peter's unvoiced question.

Matthew opened the box to reveal a set of chessmen. He placed each one on the map, now a makeshift board.

"This person believes that he or she is playing on the side of light," he said, holding up the white pawn and placing the appropriate piece from the note in the square indicated. "The move is pawn to king four. The pawn in front of the king advances to this square here," Matthew instructed pointing to the second square ahead of where the pawn had been. "Where is this place?" Matthew indicated to the map.

Peter lifted up the piece and identified the particular landmark visible in the square. The name sent a chill down his back. It was the city morgue.

****

Nicky Elders wiped the sleep from his eyes as he grabbed a cup and filled it with coffee. He knew it wasn't going to help him much. He couldn't believe he had finally landed a date with someone who didn't mind that he was a coroner. Last night had been one of the best nights he had in weeks. He really didn't care if it had ended way after midnight, two in the morning, whenever. It was worth it. He couldn't wait until he saw her again. Nicky gave a sigh of pure bliss, his thoughts still on those incredible eyes. He then looked at his desk to see a small stack of folders that had not been there the day before. 'Oh, well," he thought. 'Duty calls, as usual.' He had just sat down to look over the day's cases when he saw a familiar figure coming into his office. As usual, Peter Caine raced in without saying hello and got quickly to the point.

"Nicky, has a body come in here recently, maybe only a few hours ago?" Peter asked breathlessly. He had rushed over here as quickly as he could, his grandfather in tow.

"Hello to you too, Peter. I see you brought company with you." Nicky glanced at the figure that followed on the heals of the young Shaolin.

"This is my grandfather, Matthew Caine,"

Nicky continued as if he had not heard him. "Pete, you won't believe what happened to me last night. I met this wonderful woman. We actually went out on a date. She had these deep green eyes, and wonderful smile, and she didn't even mind me being a coroner. In fact she found it fascinating . . ."

Matthew bowed to the coroner. The action caught Nicky's attention and, for a brief moment, he was shocked into silence by the appearance of the man who stood just behind and to the left of the young Shaolin. He looked so familiar; it was uncanny. Nicky shook himself and refocused his thoughts on Peter as the latter began speaking to him again.

"Nicky, my father is missing. Some unwelcome visitors came by and left me a clue telling me to come here. Could you check to see if any bodies were admitted recently."

"Sure Peter." Nicky became more serious as he saw the look of fear in Peter's face. He looked over his roster. Three bodies had been brought into the morgue last night. Two were female and one was male. Their effects had been logged and placed in three separate boxes. Nicky led them to the cold room where the bodies were stored for processing and stood in front of the locker where the male body was being kept. He dreaded opening it up, fearing that it would be the body of his friend's father. He gathered his resolve, opened the door, and pulled out the slab.

Nicky took a deep breath and pulled back the sheet that covered the body.

"Oh my God!" Peter gasped.

Part 4

The threesome stood in shock staring down at the figure lying still on the slab, looking as if it was in peaceful repose. Peter's eyes were riveted to the face, refusing to believe what his eyes were telling him. He reached toward the figure, a lump catching in his throat. As he touched the beloved face, he recoiled in surprise.

"What the hell?"

Peter quickly examined the body and found it to be no more than an extremely lifelike dummy dressed up to look like Kwai Chang Caine. The dummy wore his father's white crane shirt and brown leather jacket. It even had a sash around the waist. Peter lifted the left arm of the dummy and could see the brand of the dragon imprinted on it. Every detail had been thought out carefully. The face had been so lifelike it would have fooled any expert.

Nicky breathed a sigh of relief that he would not be attending a funeral for his friend. Still, he could not believe that someone would be so bold as to arrange a morbid surprise such as this.

"Whose idea of a sick joke is this?" Nicky asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I do not know, but I may have some clue," Peter mumbled, his thoughts torn between the relief he felt that this was not his father's body, and the agony of knowing somewhere his father was being held by a madman.

Matthew came forward and ran his hands over the "body." As his hands brushed along a seam that had been torn open, he pulled out a pebble. The dummy was filled with them. Peter took the pebble from his grandfather's hand.

"I've seen these before," Peter stared at it.

Nicky went over to where the new arrivals' personal effects were kept before they were given to the families. In the one box marked for the male figure, he pulled out an envelope, walked back over, and handed it to Peter.

"Apparently this was the only thing found on the body,"

Oddly enough, the note was addressed to Peter Caine. Peter slowly opened up the letter, dreading what he might find, but somehow knew it would be another clue.

"Am I invited? That is just SO sweet. Do you like my surprise, Peter? Isn't it a shame it wasn't the real thing? Before this is over it WILL BE! Can you figure out where to find the next clue?

M"

"Do you know what this means, my grandson?" Matthew reacted to the stunned expression on Peter's face.

"Yes, grandfather, I know exactly where the next clue is," Peter said, opening his hand to reveal the pebble that still rested there.

"I'm, uh, glad it wasn't your father, Peter." Nicky said as he continued to look at the dummy. "But shouldn't you let Captain Simm's know. You may need backup." Nicky looked up and realized he had been speaking to empty air as the two visitors had vanished quickly.

*****

They rode to the park in silence. Peter pulled the Stealth over by a familiar spot and turned off the car.

"What is this place, Peter?" Matthew placed his hand on his grandson's shoulder and could feel the young priest trembling slightly.

"This is my secret place. I come here to get away from everything. I had a secret place near the temple as a kid when I needed to be alone. My father would come to find me. We shared a ritual. He knew he could only come when he was invited. He'd always asked if he was and if I felt like talking, I'd . . ." Peter fought back the hot angry tears that threatened to engulf him as his voice trailed off. A deep sense of violation spread through him. "No one else knew about this. Someone must has been following us, listening in on our conversations." Peter remembered the time his father had visited him here, especially the time he had tried to save Maxwell Forrester's life, only to see the man killed. His father had remembered the ritual, and it warmed his heart to know that he had not forgotten it. There had been other times after that as well. Right now, he wished his father was there continuing that ritual.

"I do not understand, who would do this?"

"I don't know," Peter said angrily. "But I'm going to find out who the sob is," he said as he climbed out of the car and slammed the door.

Peter walked toward the lake, looking for signs of the next clue, but still caught up in the turmoil of emotion. To think that one ritual that he and his father shared was being used against him brought the tears again to his eyes which he fought to keep under control. He could not let himself be drawn into dispair. He had to remain calm, but it was so difficult when he knew his father's life was in danger and he had no knowledge as to where to begin to even look. That clue could be anywhere. It could take hours, maybe even days to search. He leaned up against a nearby tree and rubbed his eyes with his left hand while his right supported his body as the gravity of the situation threatened to weigh him down further. As his hand pressed against the trunk, he felt something strange. He straightened to find that something had been carved in the tree. His fingers traced the familiar image left behind as the next clue to his father's whereabouts. The carving again brought tears to his eyes. It was a shape that, as a teenage boy, he would draw when he was feeling most alone, wishing for all the world that what had happened had been nothing more than a bad dream. The carving was a small, simple version of the Shaolin temple.

It was then that Peter realized that there was no note that acompanied the carving. Had they reached a dead end? What was this clue trying to tell him? Peter felt the weight of despair pressing down on him and he rested his head against the rough bark of the tree. He was so tired. The emotional energy was draining him and the thought that he might not see his father alive again threatened to engulf him in that darkness one more time.

Not wishing to disturb his grandson, but knew he was needed, Matthew asked, "Am I invited?" following the mentioned ritual thinking that Peter might need some comfort and to let him know he was there. Not getting a response, Matthew started to leave when Peter shot out a hand and grabbed his grandfather's arm. Peter did not wish him to leave, but indeed needed his strength and comfort to continue as if his own father was there. The eldest Caine turned back to his grandson and asked, "Did you find anything?"

Peter showed him the carving without saying a word. Matthew examined the carving then turned toward his grandson, aware that Peter was in need of rest.

"You are tired, my grandson. Perhaps if you return home and meditate, it will ease your weariness and you might be able to reach your father."

Peter nodded his response. There wasn't much more they could do. Perhaps the best thing was to go home, but he could not help wonder that his father's kidnapper was toying with him in some way. Peter knew if it had been him, his father would not rest until he was found. Peter turned back to the carving.

*I will find you, father. No matter how long it takes. I promised neither one of us would ever be alone again. I intend to keep that promise. I swear, on all that is good, I will find you.*

Part 5

Miller received the news and smiled sadistically. He could not believe how easy it was to get Peter Caine to play into his hands. By now he should have discovered the body at the morgue and its clue to his "secret place." The carving on the tree had been a work of genius. It was just enough to throw him off the scent, but not by much, provided that Caine found the clue at all. There was no doubt that he eventually would. Knowing Caine as he thoguht he did, he would even be wondering how "M" knew of the place. The thought sent a chill of exhilaration through Miller and he wished he could see the look on the Detective's face as he tried to figure that one out.

"Oh, Peter. It's not over yet. You may have foiled me the last time, but this time, you cannot win this game." Miller handed a video tape to one of his men that he had just finished editing. "Peterson, make sure he finds this. I don't care how long it takes. Even if you have to wait a day for the right opportunity. The longer the wait, the longer Peter Caine suffers. I'm going to check on our "visitor."

Miller rose and moved down the hall to a room that contained only a mat on the floor and a prone figure. His prisoner stared back at him, his eyes glassy, but still aware of his presence. He could see that the prisoner had developed a fever, the first sign that the drug that he had been given over the past several hours had worked its way into his bloodstream and his body was trying to throw off its affects. Miller pulled out a small bottle and a syringe from his coat pocket. He filled the syringe, knelt down beside the stricken man, lifted up his right arm, and emptied the syringe into his system.

"If you haven't figured it out by now, this drug was developed specifically to counteract the powers of a Shaolin. How I got hold of it is my secret. Not only that, but it's highly addictive. So you see, I'm not only destroying you, I'm destroying your reputation, especially in the eyes of your son. Even if he does find you, he'll find a man that overdosed. Of course, by then it will be too late. Where he'll find you won't matter. You'll be dead either way. But not before I make it more interesting for your son. You see, this game is going to take on another player, and Peter's going to have to choose which player is more important to him. Pretty soon you'll have a roommate, at least for a little while. Besides, no one should be allowed to have two fathers. You should have stayed dead, Caine. Peter was Blaisdell's son. You had no right to come back into his life and take him back. Since you came back, I saw the way he looked at you and even at Blaisdell. No one should have that much love. No one really cares about each other that much anyway. We'll just see how much your son really cares for you. Sweet dreams, Caine."

Kwai Chang Caine watched the man leave through the drug induced haze of his mind. He blinked several times, trying to focus, but it was no use. He tried to reach out to Peter but all he sensed was a swirling fog that surrounded his mind. If only he could slip into a healing meditation to try to cleanse his body of what had been done to him, but in truth, his abductor had been right about the drug. He could feel its malevolent fingers clutching at his mind and his body was beginning to want more of what had been given to him. He had to resist, but he did not know if he had the strength.

Caine struggled to a sitting position and automatically folded his legs in their customary lotus position. The effort left him feeling ragged and he leaned up against the wall for support. His shirt was damp with his sweat. He could not let this continue. He was a Shambhala Master. No one could touch him or corrupt him. Caine forced the air from his lungs and closed his eyes and began the process of meditation. He had to fight it, now, before it got too strong. It was the only way he was going to survive and have any hope of reaching his son.

Part 6

When his knocks went unanswered after several tries, Kermit became concerned and took out his pick to let himself in. Since Caine's departure and Peter's subsequent move into his place, the young priest had added a few new items, including locks to keep out unwanted intruders. It wasn't very Shaolin, since Shaolin were not known for locking their doors, but Kermit knew that Peter was still reacting with the instincts of a cop. That life was still part of Peter and always would be, even if he had become a priest.

As Kermit entered, he drew out his gun and slowly made his way through the apartment. The place was unusually dark for this time of day. Many of the rooms did not have much light to begin with and there was even less light now. Kermit checked the rooms closest to the front door, but found no sign of his friend. He noticed a soft glow coming from the back of the apartment leading to Caine's main living area. As Kermit cautiously entered the space, he spotted Peter's TV and couch in one corner of the large room. Though the room was normally filled with light from the large French doors that lead out to Caine's terrace garden, today it was dimly lit. Kermit noticed the light filtering through the drawn drapes, yet another of Peter's additions. He noticed that candles had been placed around the perimeter of the room. A smaller circle of candles sat on the raised platform, in the middle of which he found Peter.

"Ahem, Peter?" Kermit hated to see his friend like this.

"Kermit?" He whispered as he slowly came out of meditation.

"Hi, kid. When you didn't show up at the precinct I started wondering what happened to you. You haven't been by in a week. You usually come by every other day to see how things are going."

"My father's disappeared on his way home from France. I've been trying to find him for the past 36 hours. Plus, I'd been trying to work with Lo Si in the community as an apothecary. Kermit I don't know where my father is. I-I don't know if he's even still alive."

Peter stood up and put out the candles with a wave of his left arm, letting the darkness speak for the blackness that he felt in his soul. Then he walked over and heavily fell onto the couch. Kermit opened the drapes, letting in the light that allowed him to get a better look at Peter's condition. The young priest was very pale and had dark circles under his eyes, as if he had not slept for days.

"Peter, when was the last time you had anything to eat?" Kermit asked as he sat down next to Peter and pulled off his sunglasses.

"I can't eat Kermit. I have to know who took my father and what's happened to him." He got up and started pacing. Kermit routed him back to the couch.

"Kid, you aren't going to do your father much good if you starve yourself. I'm in the mood for a pizza, you want anchovies?"

Peter made a face of disgust at him.

"I'll take that as a no," Kermit laughed as he pulled out his cell phone and called a local pizza parlor. A phone was the one thing that Peter still had not added to the apartment. His father might be able to put up with the locks, but a phone would have been out of the question. This was still Caine's place, after all, and Peter was merely acting as caretaker.

***

"A pizza was ordered? Perfect."

Peterson hung up the phone. Miller wanted him to deliver the video into Peter Caine's hands no matter how long it took. He would have preferred that it be delivered in private with no witnesses, but that had been impossible. Too many people had come and gone from the apartment above the warehouse. First a young woman, then an ancient looking guy, then what looked like several people from the Chinatown community. Now a man with sunglasses had entered, someone that Peterson had not expected to see. He would have to inform Miller of this little development. Peterson would have preferred that Caine had been alone, but after he had returned from the park, there had not been an opportunity. It would seem, this was the best available time.

Peterson watched the delivery boy drive up and approached him. A fifty dollar bill talked the boy into making an extra delivery to go with the pizza.

***

"I didn't know you were still into meditation. Paul used to tell me that you'd try to hide it by pretending you had fallen asleep while sitting like that. You know you couldn't fool him."

"Yeah, I know, it's just that they wouldn't allow me to be Shaolin at the orphanage. They tried to change me, thought I was a heathen. The headmaster told me if I wanted to keep my foster parents happy I had better forget my former life. Paul and Annie never made me feel ashamed of what I was. When they found out I was Buddhist they actually sat down and talked it over with me. They didn't want me to forget who I was, or forget my father. I was never very big on meditation at the temple, but it felt right some how that I should continue it in some way. I thought my father would be proud of me if I did."

Peter's voice had dropped to a whisper when he mentioned his father. The sound of knocking broke the moment. Kermit answered the door, paid the delivery boy, and put the box down on the large workbench. It was then that he noticed a bag on top of the pizza box. He turned as a third voice distracted him for the moment and quickly replaced his trademark glasses.

"Is that food I smell?" An old man with a cane wandered into the large room.

Kermit's eyes widened behind his shields as the face of the old man came into view. He had not noticed that anyone else was in the apartment when he had first entered.

"Oh, sorry. Kermit, meet my grandfather, Matthew Caine. Grandfather, this is my good friend, Kermit Griffin."

"Your life has been filled with much adversity. Those sunglasses may hide your pain, but one day, if you seek to be free and whole once again, you must face your worst demons."

Kermit blinked several times at the strange comment. "Yeah, right."

Though he was accepting of Peter and Kwai Chang Caine's abilities, he found having those abilities applied to him rather unnerving. And now, to discover yet another Caine with those same abilities ... He shook off the old man's comment and went back to the pizza

"Looks like they sent us something extra."

Peter had retrieved a beer for both himself and Kermit, and a cup of tea for his grandfather. Kermit passed them each a slice of pizza and they ate in silence. When Peter opened up the bag, his mouth dropped open.

"What is it kid?"

"A video tape." He stood up, popped it into the VCR, took a seat near the TV, and hit the play button on the remote control.

The screen was dark for a few minutes, though a distorted voice could be heard narrating the tape.

"Hello, Peter Caine. I thought you'd like to see your father. Let's pay him a visit, shall we?"

An unfocused picture flashed onto the screen. As it cleared, Peter was horrified to see his father on the floor leaning up against a wall in a room with little more than a soiled mat. The older priest slowly made his way to his feet but was very unsteady, as if he couldn't get his balance.

"My, my, looks a little wobbly doesn't he? Kind of like a drunken old fool." Peter watched his father take a few steps before falling hard to the floor. He appeared to be fighting something that had been done to him. Peter gasped as he moved to the edge of the couch.

"Hardly looks like a man who has anyone who cares about him. He's half dead anyway," the voice laughed. "He doesn't have much time left." The camera panned in for a close-up shot. Peter could see his father was in pain. He had a cut across his forehead and and dark bruises on his face. As the camera moved down to his branded arms where his sleeves had been rolled up, Peter could see evidence of needle marks. Then the screen went black.

"I hope you remember that face, Peter, because it's the last time you're going to see it." The voice laughed again and then the tape ended.

"That bastard!" Peter stood up and threw the glass of beer across the room, staring blankly as it shattered on the far wall. He sat back down on the couch with his hands covering his face, feeling helpless and alone.

"Easy, kid, that is what that S.O.B. wants you to do, lose your temper. You've gotta calm down so we can think this thing through. We'll get that tape analyzed, and then we'll get that bastard. I've got a bullet with his name on it."

"Your friend is right, my grandson." Mathew had moved in front to face his grandson, blocking Peter's view of the set. "You must remain calm for the sake of your father." Matthew turned back to the TV. No one saw the rage kindled deep within the older man's eyes.

"He drugged him, Kermit. We've gotta find him before this psycho kills him."

"We'll find him. Look, why don't you and your grandfather take some time and go see Annie. You probably haven't seen her in a week either. I'll take the tape down to the lab at the precinct and see if I can get a voice match, though that may be difficult. It sounded as if he used some pretty sophisticated equipment. We'll get him Peter, I promise."

Part 7

Kermit rewound the videotape, placed it back in the bag, and headed out the door, leaving grandfather and grandson alone.

"Who is Annie?" Matthew Caine asked his grandson, with a twinkle in his eye at the promise of great-grandchildren to come.

Peter could sense what his grandfather was thinking and gave a short laugh. "It's not like that. I don't have anyone special in my life right now. Annie is my foster mother. She and her husband, Paul Blaisdell, and their two daughters, Carolyne and Kelly, took me into their home when I was about 14. Shortly after the temple was destroyed, and I thought my father was dead, Old Ping Hai told me he was dying and he could not take care of me. I was sent to the orphanage. There were a couple other foster families but they were short lived. I don't remember very much about them, only that I acted like a brat and they couldn't handle me so . . . " Peter trailed off. "Anyway, one day, this cop came into Pine Ridge to give a lecture on police work. He asked me if I was interested. At first I said no, then I thought better of it. I figured it would get me out of a math class. He just kept coming around after that, wanting to spend time with me. I guess, in some respects, he sort of saved my life. I was so filled with hate and bitterness after I thought Tan had murdered my father. As far as I was concerned, I was just biding my time until I could get out of the orphanage and hunt Tan down. I had every intention of avenging my father's death. Only it didn't happen that way."

"And now you are feeling that way again," Matthew commented.

Peter's head snapped up.

"Peter, you must let go of your anger or it will destroy your chi. As a priest, you know this to be true."

"How can I forgive what's being done to my father? This man has every intention of trying to destroy what I have left. He may come after you. The cycle of his lives must end or we will never be free of him."

"I do not ask for you to forgive him. I ask for you to let go of your anger, your hatred, so you may see more clearly where your father may be found. I, too, am filled with rage at what has been done to my son, but I cannot allow that rage to control me. Whoever has done this thing will pay, but not by your hand or mine. His own arrogance will be his downfall."

Peter listened to his grandfather's words. He had been caught up in his own feelings and had not realized the pain that his grandfather must be feeling at Caine's disappearance. 'Seeing the videotape must have been just as devastating for him as it had been for me,' he thought. "Oh grandfather, I'm sorry." Peter swallowed the hard lump that was forming in his throat. "I've been blind to the fact that . . ."

"Do not be ashamed, my grandson." Matthew put a comforting hand on Peter's shoulder. "Maybe we should take your friend's advice to heart. Perhaps he will learn something later and you can introduce me to your foster mother?"

"Sure, why not. Besides, Annie makes the greatest chocolate raspberry cheesecake you'll ever taste."

*****

Fiften minutes later, the two Shaolin priests were on their way to the Blaisdell home.

"Don't be alarmed when you see Annie," Peter said. "She's been blind most of her life, but she's got the senses of a Shaolin priest. She's amazing."

"I will be on my best behavior, my grandson."

Peter parked his Stealth in the drive, and went around to the passenger side to assist his grandfather from the car. Instead of going to the side door, Peter headed to the front. This would be a more formal introduction. As they drew closer, Peter was suddenly aware that something was amiss.

Sensing Peter's concern Matthew asked, "Is something wrong, my grandson?"

"I don't know. Stay here."

Peter moved forward and immediately noticed that the frame pf the front door was busted, leaving the door itself wide open. Without conscious thought, Peter tried to draw a non-existent gun from his back as he stepped into the all too silent hallway. He could sense that the silent alarm that guarded the house had been tripped not that long ago. Peter moved into the living room and just stood and stared. Suddenly, he was aware of a presence beside him. Both priests stared at the message that had been haphazardly painted in red on the living room wall.

"Knight takes Queen, Check.

M"

Both men heard the approaching sirens.

*****

"Let me go! Who are you?"

"I have a roommate for you. Enjoy it while you can. You won't be together for very long."

The man shoved the woman forward and she felt strong arms catch her as she was propelled forward. The woman screamed and tried to struggle out of the man's grasp.

"Mrs. Blaisdell, Annie, please, it is all right. Do not be afraid. It is Caine."

"Caine!" The woman said breathlessly. "Where are we? Who was that man?"

Caine reached up to Annie's face and tried to calm her chi, though his own chi was far from calm or well. It had taken all his effort to stand, let alone catch the woman who had been flung at him into their prison room.

"I do not know who has done this or why."

"Caine, can't you get us out of this?"

"No." His voice was weak and his knees were beginning to buckle from the strain.

"Caine, you're ill." Annie reached up to find his face and could feel the fever radiating from his body. "You better lay down. Does Peter know? Can he find us?"

"I do not know."

Caine's words chilled Annie to the bone. If Caine could not help them to escape and Peter could not find them, what hope was there?

Part 8

"Damn it!" Peter began pacing the room "Not Mom too, that bastard!"

"We will get them back, my grandson," Matthew stopped Peter with a hand on each shoulder. "We must keep a clear head." Matthew spotted an envelope on the coffee table in the living room. It was addressed to 'Shaolin Cop'

Peter opened the envelope, and unfolded the letter inside.

"I thought your father would like some company for a while. Your mother is a beautiful woman, I'd hate to see anything happen to the 'blind chick'.

M"

The next clue appeared at the bottom of the letter. Matthew, who brought the chess map with him, laid it out on the table.

"I know where this is," Peter whispered.

At that moment, two uniformed officers burst into the room, their weapons drawn. Both Shaolin looked up.

"Don't move!"

Another familiar plain-clothes officer entered. "Relax fellas. I know this guy."

"Jody. am I ever glad it's you."

"Peter, what's going on here?"

Peter turned back to his grandfather, not sure where to begin. If he didn't make a statement here and now, they might not get to the next clue. He could see the questioning look on his former partner's face. For now, introductions would have to wait. Both his parents' lives were at stake.

**********

"Caine, what did they do to you?" Annie helped Caine to the floor. She felt his body trembling.

"I was drugged. Whoever this man is, he wants to see our son suffer."

"That's right, priest," a voice came over the speaker on the wall. "And he is going to suffer like he's never suffered before." A maniacal laugh trailed off into renewed silence.

"Oh, Caine," Annie's voice cried out in anguish. She felt him give her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Our son is not alone, Annie, he has his friends at the precinct. My father is also here to aid him in finding us." He could feel himself getting weaker, his voice falling to a whisper.

"Your father? I don't understand."

"Yes, Matthew Caine, my father and Peter's grandfather. I thought Peter had told you that we found him in France. I went to him when my search for Laura proved in vein. He agreed to return home with me. I am sure he and Peter are togeth . . . . . AH!" he recoiled in pain.

"Caine? What is it?" she reached for him and could feel his body shaking.

"The drugs they have given me, they are creating a disharmony in my chi," he said through clenched teeth. "I must try to center myself. Please, can you help me to sit up?"

Annie did as Caine asked, feeling the fever rise even as she supported him.

"Caine, you need a doctor. You know you are part of our family, we need you . . . Peter needs you. It would destroy him if anything happened to you."

"Thank you Annie. Your concerrn does you honor. " he managed to get himself into a lotus position, took a cleansing breath, and began concentrating on strengthening his body.

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

Peter and Matthew arrived at the Sutton Place hotel after nearly an hour of talking with Jody and informing her what had happened. He also told her that Kermit was helping him and if she wanted to know more, she would have to speak to him. Jody had not been too happy when they left the scene, but Peter did not want her following them. He hoped Kermit would find out more about what was on that tape so this nightmare would be over soon.

Peter reread the clue to be sure of what he was looking for.

"What importance does this place have, Peter?"

"This was where my sister, Carolyn, held her wedding reception. That bastard really did his research into my background. Now to find out where in this hotel the next clue is . . . . . AH!" Peter doubled over in pain. At the same time Peter cried out, Caine had felt the pain from the drugs shoot through him.

"Your father . . . . . he is in great pain." Matthew put his hands on his grandson, supporting him until the sensation passed. He could feel it too, but not as strongly as Peter.

"Yeah," Peter tried to bring his breathing under control. "I'm tired of playing this game!" he said letting his frustration show.

"Were you able to reach your father?" Matthew asked.

"No. It was too fast. I only felt his pain," Peter responded breathlessly. A look of despair crossed his face, and yet, the realization that their link was not totally gone gave him some comfort.

"I believe the kidnapper is trying to make us lose hope so he can feel he has won. We will not let him do that. Peter, we must have faith that we will find them. Now let us find the next clue."

"I am glad there is one thing this bastard doesn't know."

"What is that, my grandson?"

Peter handed his grandfather the envelope and pointed whom the note had been addressed to.

"Shaolin Cop?" Matthew gave a quizzical look.

"Don't you see it? That's old news. He doesn't know I'm a priest."

"Ah. Perhaps we may use that to our advantage?"

Peter gave his grandfather a wide grin. Perhaps it was time to use those Shaolin skills his father kept telling him he now had since the branding. He only hoped that time would not run out before they could find Kwai Chang Caine and Annie Blaisdell alive.

Part 9

Miller stared at the monitor, watching his prisoners. He still could not understand what Peter Caine saw in this old man. He could see where Peter got some of his determination. The blind chick, though handicapped, certainly seemed determined to find an exit and to find a way to help Caine. Miller watched as Annie Blaisdell felt along the wall, looking for the door through which she had been flung into the room. It would not be easy. Some of the rooms had been specially designed. The door had been designed to be flush with the wall and there were no visible locks, making it much harder for a Shaolin to find a way to open it. Of course, Miller had not wanted to test that hypothesis. Instead, he ensured that Caine was out of commission by keeping him drugged with his special formula. It wouldn't be long before Caine required another dose, and when that happened, the prisoners would be separated, and the final game would begin.

"Mr. Miller, we have a problem."

Miller turned to face the man who intruded on his time of reflection.

"What is it Peterson?"

"It's Detective Griffin. I overheard he may have found a way to trace what's on that videotape."

"He's just a computer geek, what can he do?"

"You don't know him the way I do," Peterson replied. "Just because he sits in front of a computer 24 hours a day doesn't mean he's not dangerous."

"Well, take care of him. We can't risk him finding this place. I don't care how you do it. Just be sure it's a permanent solution."

As Miller was talking to Peterson, another associate watched as a third man entered and joined the two men. Then all three soon left the room and he got up and moved to the computer on Miller's desk. He logged onto the e-mail account and began typing. Within the hour he completed a detailed message, ran it through a coder, addressed it, then pressed send. As soon as the message disappeared, the man deleted any trace of the message he had sent. The man then packed up what he could, trying to leave no trace of his presence. As soon as he was satisfied, the man left the building, casually walking down the street until he could flag down a cab. His mission completed, the man vanished into the city. His only hope was that the person on the other end would receive the message in time.

*****

Kermit Griffin had been staring at a computer screen for hours. If it had not been for his trademark shades, those who had come and gone would have noticed that at least once he had fallen asleep without their knowledge. He had searched every detail of the tape but there were no clues to determine where the kidnappers were holding Caine. Now he was running a voice match and it looked as if that effort was going to fail as well. Kermit listened to the track one more time. Though the voice had been distorted, something in the phrasing of certain words had nagged at Kermit's memory cells. He could have sworn he had heard . . . no, that wasn't it, he had read something similar, but when and where?

Kermit tapped his fingers on his desk and continued to stare at the screen. There was something familiar about this scene as well. As he watched Caine struggle to rise then fall to the floor for the final time, landing on his back in a prone position, Kermit suddenly reached up and froze the screen. Another image of Caine came to him, an image that stuck in his mind from over a year ago. Suddenly, Kermit rose from his chair, pulled out his desert eagle from the side desk drawer and checked the chamber for ammunition. He had to get to Peter Caine, tell him what he knew. From what he saw and heard, he knew the identity of the man who kidnapped Kwai Chang Caine.

At that moment, his computer gave out a familiar sound. Kermit crossed back over, typed in a few commands, and decoded the incoming message. Kermit's face became a mask of steel as what he read confirmed his suspiscions. Not only was his suspiscions confirmed, but he also knew where the kidnapper could be found. Within seconds, he was holstering his special weapon and out the door heading to his Corvair.

*****

Miller entered the prison room. He could clearly see Annie Blaisdell sitting next to Caine, trying to keep him warm and wiping his fevered brow with the only thing she had, a silk handkerchief that Peter had given her as a Mother's day gift. Her name had been skillfully embroidered in Braille along one edge, embroidered in such a way so Annie could feel every stitch. She slowly turned as she became more aware that someone had entered the room.

"Who's there?"

"No one you really want to know Mrs. Blaisdell. Move away from Caine."

"No." Annie crept in front of the seated Shaolin , trying to shield him with her own body.

Miller signaled and two men came forward and grabbed the woman roughly by her arms and drug her across the floor. Annie struggled to be free from the men's grasp but they were too strong. No matter how she tried to strike out, she could not make contact to do her captures any harm.

"Caine!"

Caine remained seated, too weak to move or even to react as Miller approached with the syringe. He had been deep in meditation, and the struggle to come out of it was equally as draining. He felt the sting of the needle as it entered his arm the umpteenth time since his capture. He could feel the drug enter his system and work its poisoning effects on his chi, and this time, he knew he would not be waking from this dose.

*Peter, hear me. You must save Annie.*

Caine struggled to establish a link, but he was still too weak. He must find a way to reach his son before it was too late.

"Caine!" Annie cried out one more time as she was dragged from the room. She had only regretted a few times in her life when she could not see, this was one of those times. Without her sight, she would not be able to tell Peter what had happened to Caine or where they had taken him. 'Oh, Peter, I'm sorry. I couldn't help your father.'

Part 10

Kermit couldn't believe his luck, he was desperate to find Peter. He needed to know that this particular ex-merc had discovered who was behind the kidnapping.

He never expected to get delayed in, of all things, a traffic jam! Kermit kept honking his horn to no avail. He realized in his rush to find Peter he'd left the cell phone behind at the precinct.

'After this is all done, I am definitely going to need a vacation,' he thought as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He inched his car forward. It was going to take time to get through this, time he didn't have.

*****

"Peter look at this," Matthew had found the next clue, it was laying next to a statue in the lobby. The statue was of a dragon in flight.

Peter opened the envelope. "Your father's time is running out. That's okay, I've got another member of your family visiting me. Problem is, which one is more important to you? Mommy or daddy? Better hurry, one of them isn't going to be around long. In fact, I am sure that one of them will be resting in peace very soon. Care to pay your respects?"

Peter looked at the clue, "Oh no."

"What is it my grandson?"

"The clue... it leads to the cemetery."

*****

"Where are you taking me!" Annie screamed as she struggled against the arms that imprisoned her in their grasp. The henchmen didn't miss a beat as they opened up the door and threw her inside. She landed on a bed. The door slammed shut and Annie heard the door being locked.

She sat there for a few minutes then slowly got up. Using her hands as a guide she felt the layout of the room. It was sparsely furnished, just a bed and a chair. She ran her hands against the walls. One thing she noticed was there were no windows and the door was also flush, just like the room she'd just left.

How was she going to get out of this? Would Peter be able to find them in time? She knew that the kidnapper was going to kill Caine, but she didn't know how. Then her sensitive ears picked up voices beyond the door. What they said sent chills deep into her soul. No! They wouldn't do that! If only there were a way to warn Peter. Annie backed away from the door and stumbled as she bumped into the bed and sat down. There was nothing to do but wait. If only she could stop herself from shaking. Somehow, she knew it wouldn't be long before they would come for her.

*****

Traffic was horrendous. It took Peter nearly two hours to drive to the cemetery. Some accident up ahead was causing it. Eventually, Peter found a way to get around it. He pulled the Stealth slowly through the gates and drove down each of the narrow lanes looking for one particular marker that the clue had indicated he should seek out. There was a funeral taking place at the far end of the lane that he turned into. Seeing the funeral formed a knot in Peter's stomach as thoughts of his father being lost to him warred with his Shaolin senses that told him that it just could not be true. Peter forced the inner calm to come forward and tried to scrutinize the area. He knew this place. This was the same cemetery Peter had gone through the nigh he had escorted the hooker home. It was also where his father tried to help him against some assassins. Peter remembered yelling at his father, telling him he didn't need his help. He still felt a pang of guilt for his outburst.

Peter spotted the marker, parked the car, and he and Matthew walked over and stood in front of the angel statue. It was the only one in the park-like setting. Peter cringed as he saw a message spray painted on the base.

It read RIP KCC.

As Peter continued to stare at the grizzly message, Matthew spotted something else that Peter had not. Across the statue's wings rested his son's flute. The thought of never seeing his son play the instrument ever again brought chills to the eldest Caine's soul and he shivered. Matthew put his hand on his grandson's shoulder to stop himself from shaking.

"We've gotta find them, Grandfather. He wants me to choose between them. How can I? How can you choose between the most important people in your life?" Before his grandfather could say anything, Peter could sense his father. He could feel how weak he was.

*Peter, hear me. You must save Annie.*

*Father?* he spoke through their link.

*Peter, I am sorry, my son.* he responded weakly. *I can no longer be with you. You must save Annie. I go to your mother. I love you, my son.*

Matthew also felt the link to his son.

*Father, take care of Peter. He will need you.* Then the connection was gone.

"Father, no!" Peter could still feel the love his father sent to him. He felt a coldness; a finality in that gesture and a terrible feeling filled his heart. It was the touch of death.

Part 11

A mourner watched the two men at the other end of the cemetery as they stared at the defaced statue. A smile formed on his lips. It would not be long now until his revenge on Peter Caine would be complete. Soon, the second half of his plan would be put into action as soon as the young man of the two made a decision that would seal the fate of the two people involved.

The man lowered his gaze, appearing to mourn the loss of his loved one as the coffin was lowered into the ground. It was fortuitous that at the same time Peter was receiving this clue, his daddy was just a few 100 feet or so away from him. The irony of it caused the man to secretly smile.

'So long, Priest," he thought. 'Your son has lost this battle. By the time he saves his blind mommy, it'll be too late for you. There's only enough air in that box to last a couple of hours. Your Shaolin abilities can't help you now. I guess this is your final resting place after all.'

As they finished lowering the coffin, the man picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it into the open grave. It was that signal that caused another man to break off from the group and head toward the statue at the other end.

*****

"Father, no."

Peter collapsed at the base of the statue. How could his father let himself die? But how could he not? Even he was forcing Peter to choose, trying to remind him in some way that a Shaolin protected those weaker than himself. If there had been any other way, his father would have found the means to free himself or succeeded in letting Peter know exactly where he was, but Caine had been drugged and his Shambhala Master's abilities had been severely hampered. It must have taken a great effort for him to even establish a link at all to let Peter know that only he could save Annie.

Peter knew his father was right. Chances were Peter would not be able to save his father without saving Annie. Even with that brief link, he still did not know where his father was, but it was possible Annie might have found out.

At that moment, a man dressed in a dark suit approached.

"Are you Peter Caine," the man asked.

"Yes," the young Shaolin answered.

"I was told to give you this." The man handed Peter an envelope then left the cemetery. Peter opened it to find yet another note.

"You have less than one hour to save her before there is a hot time in the old town tonight. It would be a shame to loose all that valuable real estate over one woman, but I'm sure the city planners can find something to do with all that storage space. After all, no one's going to notice one human body among all those other carcasses.

M"

Peter Caine's face paled as he realized just what the man was planning.

"We've got to get to the warehouse district," was all he said before he was on the move with Matthew following close behind.

Part 12

Kermit Griffin continued to brood as the traffic inched along. Soon the reason for it came into view. There was an over-turned semi in the middle of the street blocking all four lanes of traffic leading to Chinatown. Kermit cursed himself for taking this route. The truck wasn't even supposed to be in this part of town.

Kermit struck the steering wheel in frustration one more time. There was no way for him to turn around and head in the other direction having been boxed in from other cars on all sides. As it was, Peter was probably long gone by now, chasing whatever clues he might have received. Kermit hoped he was having better luck than he was at finding his father. It was going to be at least another hour before this mess was cleaned up enough so he could get by. For the first time, he wished he had Caine's ability to show up as if by magic.

As Kermit waited for the accident to be cleared, he thought about the information he'd received about Miller a.k.a. Masterson. The email, though cryptic, had described in detail every step the man had taken to take revenge on Peter Caine, including the part about involving another member of Peter's family. Stephen O'Malley had managed to email him with the details without Masterson's knowledge. It had been over a year since Kermit had spoken to him about Masterson and the last time that bastard had tried to take revenge on Peter Caine. O'Malley had infiltrated Masterson's organization in order to keep an eye on the man. There really wasn't much he could do until Masterson had made his move. He was grateful for his friend's help and hoped that he would get out before Masterson discovered the betrayal.

*****

Miller, now known as Masterston, continued to watch as one of his men approached Peter Caine and handed him the envelope that would decide Kwai Chang Caine's fate. He could not help smiling and remembering what had happened just two hours ago. With the help of his men, he had been able to set up this little scene long before Peter Caine found the second clue; all just to get a look at Peter Caine's face as he found the message on the statue. Of course, none of this would have been possible if he had not thought of the double jeapordy idea.

'Everything seems to be playing out beautifully,' he thought.

**flashback

As Masterson listened on his cellular phone about Peter and Matthew Caine finding the clue that would lead them to the cemetery, he did not wait long to remove Annie from her prison room. Masterson had to smile at her efforts as she struggled in the men's grasp. One of the men struck her across her face and she nearly blacked out. Masterson was not too pleased, but did not say anything. At least this way, Mrs. Blaisdell had been easier to handle. He watched as the blind chick was thrown into a van. He signaled one of his henchmen to sit with her to make sure she didn't go anywhere, despite the woman's handicap. The drive had not been long. As soon as the van door opened, Annie was led out. Sea gulls could be heard overhead and the smell of the sea was in the air.

"Where are you taking me? Why are you doing this?"

"Shut up, lady," the henchman had his hand poised to strike her again.

"No, I don't want her harmed. I want her kept on ice for a while. Let's see how strong a son's love for his mother really is." Masterson signaled and an empty crate was brought forward. Masterson examined the crate and signaled his men to take both the woman and the crate inside the warehouse.

"Who are you, why are you doing this to Peter?" Annie was pushed in through the door of the warehouse.

"He took my life away from me. I want him to suffer the way I've suffered. No one should have the luck he's had. Losing his father, his home. Then finding a new home and then his father again. Having two fathers! That's not going to last much longer. See I'm forcing him to choose between saving you or his father. I'm hiding both of you, only one of you is going to come out of this alive."

"Where is Caine?" she feared this madman had already killed him.

"He's been laid to rest," the man laughed.

"He's . . ." she couldn't finish her thought.

"Dead? No, dear lady, at least not yet. At least he's in a fitting place when the end does come. Six feet under. Lock her up men."

Masterson watched as his henchman locked her in the crate.

Miller laughed, 'Let's see Peter Caine find her in this maze. I've got a funeral to attend.'

The warehouse was filled with boxes identical to the one Annie Blaisdell was now locked up in. Finding her would be like finding a needle in a haystack. Miller 's smile grew on his face as he walked out of the warehouse.

**flashback ends

Miller watched the two men leave the cemetery.

'So, your love for your 'mommy' is stronger than the love for your father. I guess the old stereotype is true, about boys loving their mothers and not being able to truly be cut from the apron strings. Good luck, Caine, but even so. I've left a little insurance policy just in case. We can't have you coming back here to save 'daddy' now can we?' Miller watched as the men began to refill the grave with dirt. "Pack it down tight boys. I'm going back to the office. After you're finished here, prepare to move out. The next thing I want to hear is the anguished cries of Peter Caine when he discovers that the funeral he 'attended' was for his own father."

Part 13

Peter had parked the Stealth just outside the warehouse and rushed toward the entrance.

"It's locked," Peter said in dismay as he tried the door.

"That is no obstacle for us Shaolin," Matthew said as he ran his hands over the lock and it clicked open.

"I didn't know you could do that too, Grandfather?"

Matthew shrugged his shoulder just the way his father did. It was one of the many Caine traits they shared.

The warehouse was a cavernous room filled with boxes each identical to the other. Many of them were stacked high on palettes and in several piles forming a maze of corridores.

"Where did he put Annie?" Peter started looking around the crates.

"Peter, I think this will tell us," Matthew held an envelope he'd found taped to one of the boxes.

"Looks like you made your choice," the letter began," Your mother is enjoying the comforts of one of these crates. You'll have to decide which one. Don't take too long, I have a surprise that is just ticking down the minutes to the big boom. Oh and don't worry about your father, you already paid your respects.

M"

Peter didn't have the time to decipher the whole letter.

"There's a bomb in here. How the hell am I going to find my mother in this maze before the place goes up?"

"You must calm yourself, my grandson. You can do this." Matthew put his hand on Peter's shoulders. He was sending his chi into him, giving him his strength to carry on.

"Yeah, okay, I-I can do this," he studdered.

"Open your senses, my grandson," Matthew said softly. "Locate her chi."

Peter took a deep breath, centering himself. He focused on Annie, the woman who had become a mother to him from the first time he had met her. He was a scared, bratty, teenage kid that she willingly welcomed into her home. She never let him forget he was wanted, loved, and a member of the family. He used that image to help him sense her presense here.

Using his Shaolin senses, and Matthew's chi strength, he let himself be guided down the maze of boxes. He soon discovered where his mother could be found, but could they get to her in time.

****

Annie sat in the confined space. It was getting harder to breath.

"Oh, please, someone help me," She pleaded, her eyes drooping shut. It was getting harder to stay awake. She was beginning to wonder if anyone would be able to find her. A madman was tormenting Peter, making him choose between her and his father. If Peter were to choose to save his father first, she would understand. She knew how much his father meant to Peter; how happy he was that they found each other.

**** FLASHBACK ****

Annie had heard the car in the driveway and recognized the sound of the engine. She wondered why Peter was dropping by this evening. He wasn't due for dinner till tomorrow night.

"Hi, Mom," he kissed her cheek and gave her a hug.

"Hi honey, aren't you a day early? I wasn't expecting you for dinner till tomorrow." She had just turned on the dishwasher after having an early dinner. Kelly was spending time with her friends while Carolyn was out with her latest boyfriend.

"Where's Paul? I wanted to talk to both of you." Peter had walked with Annie to the livingroom and they sat together on the couch.

"He went with Frank to a poker game. Is something wrong, Peter?" she was becoming concerned.

"No, Mom, for the first time in a long time everything is right again," he was beaming from ear to ear.

"Okay, spill it, are you seeing someone?" Annie coaxed, her curiosity piqued.

"No, that's not it."

"Well what else can it be to make you have that grin on your face."

"How could you....." he stopped his wondering, he knew he couldn't hide anything from her.

"I can hear it in your voice," she supplied him with an answer to his unfinished question.

"My wish came true, Mom," Peter said, his voice going to a whisper. Tears of joy threatened to overwhem him.. "The one thing I never thought could ever happen has happened. Remember how I used to wish that my father was alive again, that he'd come back?"

"Yes, honey, I remember how you used to cry yourself to sleep when you realized that he was gone." She was wondering where this was going.

"He's back, Mom. My father, he's alive!" he hugged her against him.

"What? What are you talking about, Peter? I thought your father died at the temple."

"I know it sounds crazy, I thought I was dreaming. I saw him coming out of the burning brownstone, carrying an old man. I saw the marks of the Shaolin on his arms, but still I didn't believe it. It wasn't until I went to the hospital and saw him laying in that bed. Looked at his face, it was the same. I was speechless."

"Peter, slow down. When did this happen?" Annie asked.

"Last week, when I went undercover in Chinatown to take down Tan. Everything happened so fast, I didn't have a chance to tell you or Paul about it until now. He's been taking care of me. I got shot by Chan but the bullet went clean through and my father didn't want to leave me alone . . "

"You were shot and you didn't tell Paul or me?" Annie's voice rose in pitch.

"Mom, it wasn't that bad. Besides, the Ancient and my dad fixed me up."

"Who is this Ancient and where was your father all this time? Why did he leave you?" Anger flared towards this unknown man who was just a name to them all for having abandoned a fine boy like Peter, no matter whether he took care of her son or not. She wanted answers as to how this man could be so cruel as to leave his frightened child behind after the destruction of their home.

"The Ancient is an old priest in Chamatown that my father saved and it wasn't like that, Mom. We both were told the other was dead by, Ping Hai. He was trying to protect us from the renegade priest who destroyed the temple. My father thought I was dead. He spent his time wandering, trying to come to terms with my death."

Seeing the truth in Peter's words, her anger dissipated. "That poor man, there is nothing worse then having to bury a child." Sensing her son's happiness, she reached out and hugged him. "Oh, Peter, I am so happy for you. I'm sorry for the way I acted."

"That's okay, Mom. I still can't believe it. I keep thinking I'm dreaming all this. What do you think Paul will say?"

****End of Flashback****

Annie remembered that it had been hard for Paul at first, but after they had all met Caine, they immediately took a liking to the man. Paul had become friendly with him and they shared stories of Peter with each other.

Caine had become an additional member of their family. She did not want to think about Peter losing him a second time. She knew how hard it had been for him when Caine left for 6 months to find his path. Though Peter seemed to had accepted it outwardly, inwardly, it had torn him apart not knowing if his father was alive or dead during that time. Now she feared Peter was going to have to face that kind of pain again, and with Paul also gone, Peter would have no father to turn to for comfort.

*Mom?*

"Peter?" she thought she was imagining hearing Peter's voice in her head.

*Yeah, Mom, it's me. I'm coming for you. Don't worry I'll get you out of here.*

Annie could feel a tingling sensation. She knew Peter had finished his Shaolin training and even became a priest, but she didn't know how strong his senses were. He was so much like Caine now. Her heart was filled with hope as she knew she was close to being rescued, but she knew she had to warn him about his father just the same.

"Peter, that madman he took your father. He...."

*Shhh, don't waste your energy, just try to relax Mom. I'm coming for you.*

Peter knew he didn't have much time. He didn't even know how long the bomb had been set or where it had been placed. It would take too long to search for it so Peter concentrated on trying to get to Annie instead. There were so many boxes, but Peter did not stop to look in any of them. He simply rushed through the maze and stopped in front of one that looked just like all the others. He didn't question why he just knew this was the one.

"I have found a crowbar," Matthew rushed back to his grandson. "We must hurry."

Peter took the crowbar from his grandfather and began to pry open the lid of the box. They found Annie crouched inside.

"Mom?" he lifted her into his arms.

"Peter," she wrapped her arms around his neck as he picked her up. Without hesitation, all three rushed toward the front of the warehouse.

BOOM!!!!!!!! The windows blew out, showering the street with glass. The place quickly became an inferno. The threesome just made it out of the doorway before the explosion. All three were thrown to the pavement from the force of the blast. Peter covered his mother's body with his own. It took a few moments for him to recover enough to speak.

"Mom, are you okay?"

"Uh, yes, I'm okay."

"Grandfather? Are you hurt?"

"No I am all right." They stood up slowly and made their way to the Stealth.

"Mom, this is my grandfather, Matthew."

She felt him take her hand in his. It felt strangely familiar, just like Caine's. "Hello, I'm sorry to have to meet you like this."

"I know, we will talk later, after we have found my son."

"Peter, that madman, he told me where your father is."

"I know where he is, Mom. I just figured it out. He left me a note with a clue on it. I was right there. It was the funeral. That bastard buried my father alive. I just wish I knew who is behind all this."

"I know who it is."

They all turned at the voice. Kermit was standing by the Stealth, the Corvair parked next to it. "It's Masterson, he's back to finish what he started."

In the distance, sirens could be heard coming closer.

Part 14

"Kermit, take my mother home. See to it that she's safe. Grandfather and I are going after my father."

"Are you sure, kid? You may need backup. Plus, the police and fire department's going to need to know what happened here."

"Please, my grandfather and I have to do this alone," Peter said. "If we don't leave now, it may be too late."

"I can tell them what happened," Annie said. "You better let them go, Kermit."

"They're not going to like you leaving the scene, Peter." Kermit said.

"I know, but I don't know how long my father has. My grandfather and I have to do this."

Kermit nodded his understanding. Nothing he could say would stop the young Shaolin if he could. "I'll cover you as best I can, but you're going to have to come down to the station and make a statement later."

"We will, I promise. Just look after my mother."

Kermit led Annie to his car to wait for the police, fire and rescue, and paramedics while Peter and Matthew sped away in the Stealth. The least he could do for his friend was see that his mother was taken care of and checked out. He was as fond of Annie as any man.

'Good luck kid,' Kermit said to himself. 'I wish I could be there to watch your back. I hope you find your father alive.'

*****

It took nearly 20 minutes to get back across town to the cemetery near Chinatown. Peter again sent out his chi to search for his father's essence. A dread filled him, however, when there was no answering glow. Peter parked the car near the gravesite and both continued on foot. As they grew closer, Peter could feel nothing but an empty void.

'No," he whispered. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. Looking around, he spotted two shovels that had been thrown carelessly under some bushes. He grabbed one and started to dig.

"Stop, what do you think you're doing?" An attendant came forward.

"Saving my father," Peter said, his voice filled with emotion.

The attendant looked at the young man as if he was crazy. The man made a move to try to grab for the shovel, but Matthew came between them.

"Please, he must do this. It is necessary."

The attendant stared at the elderly man with astonishment. He had not known who had been buried in the grave. It was impossible to think that who was buried there was Chinatown's renown healer. Without a word the attendant grabbed the second shovel and began to dig. It wasn't long before both men had dug down to the right level. As Peter grabbed another shovel full of dirt, he struck something hard. He quickly brushed the dirt aside to find the simple coffin that had been lowered into the grave. Peter tried to lift the lid, only to discover it was sealed tight. The attendant pulled out a sharp pocket knife and started to run it along the edge when he noticed a strange look had come over the young man's face.

"No, allow me," Peter said as he reached to stop the attendant from using his pocket knife on the seal.

Peter settled into a calm state, even though it took all his effort. He again remembered how he asked his father if he would be able to open a lock or break a seal. His father had said that when the situation was desperate enough, he would be able to use that power. He also remembered the time when he had used it. It had been during the time when he was being hunted for the murder of Rebecca Calbert. When he was ready, Peter reached toward the coffin and ran his hands along the seal. There was an audible sound of the seal being released, and Peter looked down to see that it had indeed opened at his touch.

Peter slowly lifted the lid, afraid of what he would find. Laying inside in peaceful repose was Kwai Chang Caine. This time, it was no dummy to taunt them.

"Dad."

Peter called out softly, but still no answer came.

"Dad, it's me." Peter called again, this time cupping his father's face in his hand, only to find no warmth.

No!" Peter nearly collapsed at what he found, but instead lifted his father's body from the box of death and cradled him close. His father's form lay limp in his arms. No spark of life existed. His head hung loosely, and Peter did his best to support it by placing it on his shoulder. Peter clung to the form and buried his face in his father's torn and bloodied shirt. No, he wasn't dead. He just couldn't be dead. Deep racking sobs threatened to escape, but Peter held them back. He would not give into grief.

"It is too late. It is best to let the dead rest," The attendant said, trying to comfort a young man who would not be comforted. "Perhaps we should leave him here. I will cover him if you wish."

"I won't bury him here a second time," Peter said in defiance. "I'm taking him home so the community can say goodbye, so I can say goodbye."

Peter insisted that the attendant hold his father's body while he climbed out of the grave. He then reached down and lifted his father from the gaping hole and silently carried him to the Stealth, his grandfather following close behind also in silence.

When they arrived back at the Caine apartment, Peter had placed his father on the raised platform. Out of habit, Peter placed a pillow under his head. Seeing the condition of his father's clothes, Peter went to where Caine kept his silks. Carefully and silently Peter removed his father's travel worn clothing which had become bloodied and torn from his ordeal. Peter then went and gathered a basin of water, a sponge, and a large soft towel. This would be his final act as a son honoring his father. Slowly and silently he bathed his father's bare skin in much the same way that his father would do for him whenever he was sick with fever. Carefully he removed the dried sweat, blood, and grime until he was clean again. Tears fell from Peter's face as he saw what had been done. Several needle marks and bruises graced his father's arms. Other bruises could also be seen where his father had been beaten when he had lain helpless from the drugs that he had been given. After patting his skin dry, Peter dressed his father in his white silk crane shirt and grey paints. Peter shook his head in despair at the prospect of having to tell the community, but for now, another emotion threatened to shadow his reason. Peter picked up his father's limp hand in his and spied the ring that was part of the Caine legacy. He silently slipped it off his father's finger and placed it on his own hand. He then leaned over and kissed his father's forehead for what he believed to be the last time.

Silently, another figure stood in the background, tears also streaming from his face. 'It is not right. A father should not out live a son,' Matthew thought. 'Peter will need me more than ever.'

Matthew was brought out of his thoughts at the sudden movement of his grandson. Looking into Peter's face, a sudden chill went through him. Fear for his grandson's soul came to him when he realized just what Peter was about to do.

"Peter, where are you going?"

"To end the life cycle of my father's murderer."

"You cannot do this. Your father would not want you to. It is not the Shaolin way."

"No, but it is my way."

"But you do not know where this man is."

Peter held up a note that he had found with his father's body. Matthew had not been aware of it.

"He wants a showdown, Grandfather. He's going to get one."

Peter tossed the paper to his grandfather and continued to proceed from the room not before stopping in front of a shelf to pick something up. His hand brushed across the object. He then clutched it to his breast and thought about the day he was able to return it to its owner. A look of determination appeared on his face Then concealing the object in his jacket and without another word, he left the apartment.

Matthew opened the note and read its contents. Images of his grandson lying dead at someone's feet came to him. There had to be a way to stop him., but Matthew was not quick enough. He heard the sound of Peter's Stealth as he drove from the alley. Matthew shook his head in despair and walked over to sit beside his son. He lifted Kwai Chang's limp hand in his, but soon became aware that something was not what it seemed.

'Oh, Peter if only you would have waited just five more minutes,' he thought.

Part 15

<<Cough, cough.>>

"Easy, my son. Slowly, take slow even breaths." Matthew guided his son back to consciousness and brought a cup to Kwai Chang's lips. "Drink."

Kwai Chang Caine took a swallow. "Father?" Caine said hoarsely as he tried to focus on Matthew's face. "What?" he asked confused.

"You are waking from a deep sleep state, one that has saved your life. You were buried alive. I am pleased you have remembered your training, my son." Matthew wiped a stray strand of hair from his son's face and helped him to sit up.

"Peter?" he quickly thought of his son.

"He thought you had been killed. He is going to seek vengeance against Masterson, the one who has done this. I could not stop him."

"We must go after him, we must not allow him to go down this path."

"You must rest, Kwai Chang Caine," Lo Si crossed over to the raised platform from the doorway where he had been standing. "Your father and I will find Peter. I have only just returned from Shambhala and learned all that had transpired. I am sorry I was not here to help your son. Please, forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive, Master," Kwai Chang Caine said, his breath coming in ragged fits. "You did not know."

"You must rest, my son. I know where we will find Peter," Matthew said, holding up the note that his grandson had flung at him.

***** Peter drove the Stealth down the dark streets. He was focused on one thing, revenge. Masterson got away once, he'd be damned if it would happen again. He killed his father, the most important person in his life. Hot tears of rage fell, despite Peter's efforts to control them. Each tear that fell was for all the years they had lost while father and son were apart and now for all the years they would no longer have because a madman had done the impossible, taken the life of Kwai Chang Caine.

His rage continued to fill him as he weaved his way through the traffic. A light rain began to fall, slowing Peter's progress. He remembered what the last note Masterson had left said.

"Too late, Caine. How does it feel to lose your father a second time? Does it hurt? Good! Now you know how I feel. You want me? Come and get me, I'll be at the old brewery. You know where that is. I'll be waiting for you, if you have the guts to show up.

M"

Peter remembered the reference. He and Masterson were working on a stakeout together. They busted some drug dealers. The brewery had been a cover for their own operations. It was also the time when Masterson had been busted down to beatcop having been accused of stealing cocaine from the evidence room. Peter tried to help and thought they could be friends until Masterson started to become jealous of Peter's accomplishments. He thought Blaisdell was playing favorites with Peter, giving him the choice assignments. Peter never really knew what caused Masterson to snap and go after his father previously. He only knew that this would be the last time Masterson would ever hurt him again.

*****

Masterson waited for Peter to arrive. He should have discovered one of his parents by now. After he had returned from the funeral, he discovered that his Mountie friend was no where to be found. He was probably getting something to eat. Or maybe he decided to cut out early, realizing that Masterson wanted to finish the job himself. No matter. They'd probably meet up again later back in Canada and Masterson would be sure to pay him his share.

Masterson pulled from the desk a large sum of cash and handed several bills to Peterson and the rest of the men.

"You're through here. Disappear. I'll take care of Peter Caine myself."

After the men left, Masterson again settled himself down at his desk to wait. He pulled from a drawer several photos and began flipping through them. Each time he saw the elder Caine, he could not help remembering his own loss. Though his father still lived, he was still lost to Masterson for other reasons, reasons to this day that he blamed Peter Caine for, even though Caine had nothing to do with it. But it had only been the beginning of Masterson's pain. Masterson never came to terms with it. He became jealous that Peter could be so happy while he was so miserable. Masterson would never forget the last time he saw his father.

****Flashback***

"i want to see him."

"Brother, he won't see you. You know what happened the last time."

"Yeah I know. I thought it would be different this time."

"You know how he feels. He won't accept the fact that you disobeyd and entered the academy to become a cop."

"But everything's going so well with me. I heard about this man named Blaisdell. He's captain of the 101st preceinct, the best team in the city. If everything goes well, sis, I might even be chosen to be in his precinct. Please, I have to see him. Maybe if I tell him all the things I've done, he'll see that he's wrong and be proud of me."

Against her judgement, she allowed John to enter their father's hospital room. What happened after that was a blurr. The only thing that John Masterson was sure of, his own father had totally and utterly rejected him. In his father's eyes, he was dead. And in his son's heart, he also agreed.

The days that followed found Masterson's academy record surpassed by another young man. He had become top of his class in every respect. Masterson did not seem to care, but at the same time, all he had left was the force. He remembered at one time the young man tried to console him, but Masterson had just simply brushed him off. That was the first time he had met Peter Caine.

Four years later, while on stakeout, that same young man had re-entered his life. Again Peter Caine tried to make friends, but Masterson had become more of a loner than ever. His career as a cop had been marred after he had been blamed for when the cocaine that had been seized at the scene from that bust had gone up missing. He had been the officer on record to check the stuff into the evidence room, but when it came time for the trial, the coke was gone and Masterson had been suspected in it's theft. After that, every case that came his way just wasn't the same. He watched as the young cop, Peter Caine, rose quickly in the ranks and was made detective while he had been busted down to beatcop. That was said to be the shortest record in history for anyone being a detective, only two months. Since that time, Masterson never forgot over that fact. Being a detective was all he ever wanted to be, an honor he felt that he should have received. Then Caine received another surprise. The father he thought dead turned up alive. At first, Masterson was really happy for the young man. It gave him hope thinking that some day he and his own father might reconcile, but that was not to be. He learned his father had changed his will and his sister, Katherin, was now the sole heir to their father's estate, while Caine glorified in the fact that he now had two fathers.

Another two years went by and still Officer Masterson walked a beat. When he finally made detective, it was only because his name came up at a posh party. Even so, the cases that he received weren't nearly as interesting as the ones Caine always got. Robberies, break-ins, and an occasional murder, though all proved to be open and shut cases, nothing that really required true police work. As it was, it was his partner who did most of that kind of work while he got stuck filling out forms.

But it wouldn't end there. When Simms took over the force, he thought he might get some kind of a break and receive better cases. Even when Caine had been accused of murder, he thought, for once there might have been a chance. If he could be assigned to the case and find some kind of evidence, even if that evidence had proven him innocent, perhaps he might get a break. But Caine once again beat him to the punch. Year after year Caine was always in his limelight. Then when Caine shot his father, here was the break that he had been waiting for. While he, John Masterson had played by the rules, and stood by watching Caine take chances, only to come up on top, he had decided that the only way he was going to get any retribution was to somehow show that Caine was more a liability than an asset to the force.. The files that he had placed on Simms desk that day weren't all police records. One particular file was a detailed report on Caine's recklessness and total disregard for the rules. He hoped that Simms would look at the report and bust Caine down to walking a beat, but even she stuck by Caine after what he did. Enough had been enough. Caine had to pay, but in the end, even that had been taken from him.

*****

The noise of a car approaching caught Masterson's attention and he waited in the shadows. He looked out the window to see a familiar blue car pull into the drive and smiled. 'It will be just you and me, Shaolin Cop. I've waited a long time for this.'

"Eye for an eye," Peter said aloud as he pulled the Stealth into the abandoned brewery's lot.

Part 16

Masterson watched Peter from the second story window as he existed his car.

'No gun detective?' he thought. 'That was foolish. You won't live long enough to wish you had one.'

Masterson turned from the window and headed to the control booth. After coming back to the city, six months ago, he had discovered this place and its many different rooms to set up his plans. Several of the rooms he converted while others were perfect for his needs, two of which had become Caine's and Mrs. Blaisdells' prisons. They had been perfect. One room had been used to store the brewer's yeast while the other had been used to store the hops thad had been grown to brew the beer. At one time, the old brewery had been a thriving business until other methods of brewing had been developed. The owners tried to keep the business going, but soon ran into financial trouble until someone bailed them out. Unfortunately, for the owners, that someone had been involved in another form of business, one none too legal. The brewery had become a front for drug dealers. Masterson smiled at the irony of the situation. To think this very brewery was part of the reason for his downfall. 'Now it would be a place of victory,' he thought. It was time to spring his first trap.

Peter entered the first level of the old brewery. Somewhere in this maze of rooms was Masterson, his father's killer. All thought of his Shaolin training he abandononed for this one chance. Peter thought back on the day he thought Tan had murdered his father with the destruction of the temple. He had not been able to avenge his father's death then, but at the time, he did not know that he had been wrong, that his father still lived. During those dark times, Paul Blaisdell had been the one to show him another way out of that darkness, and for a time, he had forgotten the oath that he had made at the marker that was said to be his father's grave. Then 15 years later, oddly on the anniversary of that very night of destruction, a man with Shaolin brands walked out of a burning building carrying an older man in his arms. The image was too surreal to believe and reminded Peter of the terror of that time long past. He continued to watch and was drawn to the younger of the two men. Peter had to know who the man was and if he knew what had happened to his father, if he had seen him. Little did he know that life sometimes held surprises that would again turn his world upside down.

Peter's life changed after that and his feet were once again set upon a path that he believed had been lost to him forever. A long hope-filled dream had come true that night and now that dream had once again been shattered. His father was again lost to him, this time for real and for good. He would never forget the feel of his father's face when he reached into that coffin, the cold lifelessness that was in his body. Never again would he feel the slap against his cheek that pushed the lesson in, now remembered more like a comforting caress. Masterson would pay, then Peter would do one more thing. He would join his father. It would be his penance for the crime that he was about to commit. No Shaolin could live with that shame.

Suddenly, Peter sensed danger. He looked up to see a large heavy metal object coming at him in the darkness. Quickly he sprang to one side as the object sped past and crashed into the wall behind him. Peter stared at the object, not sure what he was looking at. It was a large brewers vat on casters. If he had not moved when he did, he would have been trapped in its path and crushed up against the wall. The vat was heavy enough that several bricks in the wall had deep cracks. More than likely, he would have been killed. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat and continued his search for Masterson.

****

"Peter!"

Kwai Chang Caine tried to rise from the platform but he was still too weak. Lo Si and Matthew had left to find Peter. He wasn't even sure if his father could even sense where Peter might be. He had to find them before it was too late. As Caine struggled to rise, Kermit came in looking for Matthew and Peter. He wanted to report to them that Annie was safe. He had taken her to stay with Carolyn, Peter's sister, and returned to help his friend.

"Caine!" Kermit was quickly at his side as Caine slipped to the floor. "You're all right. Peter found you."

"I must find Peter."

Woe, isn't he here?" Kermit queried.

Caine shook his head, "No. He believes that Masterson killed me. We must stop him. He intends to kill Masterson then himself."

"Where's Matthew? Isn't he here?"

"No, my father has gone with Lo Si. They are looking for Peter."

"They're going to have a hard time finding him," Kermit said. "Matthew doesn't even know the city."

"I think not." Caine pointed to a piece of paper lying on the workbench where Matthew knew his son was sure to see it.

Kermit picked it up and read its contents. "I know where they're headed. They may not have gone far. We'll pick them up along the way. How do you know Peter plans on killing himself?"

"The ceremonial knife, the one with the jade dragon hilt, is missing. It is always on that shelf. It is now gone."

*****

Two elderly men hobbled down the street, yet surprisingly they moved faster than those surrounding them. It was as if they were moving with the wind.

"Has my grandson always been this stubborn?" Matthew wondered.

"I believe it runs in the family," Lo SI commented as he and Matthew walked towards the brewery.

<<Beep, beep!!>>

They turned at the sound.

"Hop in guys, we don't have much time," Kermit called out as he pulled up next to the two men. Caine sat in the passenger seat.

"My son, you should not be here. You are not strong enough." Matthew helped Kwai Chang out of the kermitmobile so he and Lo Si could climb into the backseat.

"I must help Peter, Father. He is in great danger, not only from Masterson, but from what his actions will cause him to do. He is so filled with rage and grief. He will destroy this man and then himself. I can not allow that to happen."

Caine fell heavily back against the car seat. He concentrated on centering his chi. All attempts to contact his son had been in vain. He was still too weak and could not break through Peter's anger. Kermit doubled his efforts to get there in time.

Part 17

"Damn it!" Masterson cursed under his breath. Caine had more lives then a cat. "You're dead, you hear me, DEAD!" he whispered harshly. He ran out of the office and down the corridor to the old bottling room. He'd end this here and now. He smiled as he waited for his prey to come to him.

Peter carefully made his way up the staircase to the second floor. He kept his back against the wall as he crept towards the office. He slowly opened the door, his eyes scanning the room and found it empty. He couldn't help notice some papers on the desk. Taking a closer look, his mouth dropped open. There were pictures of his father's final resting place. Detailed photos showed his father being placed in the coffin. Other images showed him and his grandfather at the site, standing in front of the angel statue, the funeral behind them. Then another shot showed the coffin being lowered into the open grave. Masterson was still toying with him. He picked up the pictures and tore them in two.

'I'll get that bastard,' he muttered as his rage built to a fevered pitch where the air nearly crackled around him. Peter stalked out of the room and looked up and down the hall. He turned towards a sound coming from the other end of the hallway.

"Come and get me Caine!" Masterson laughed loudly. "I got rid of one of your fathers. Look at it this way, you won't have to choose between them any more."

Peter stopped at the door, slipped inside, and hid behind the old conveyor belt. He looked around the room, desperately looking for Masterson.

"BANG!" Peter felt the bullet whiz by his head as he quickly ducked.

"You'll have to do better than that Masterson!" Peter screamed at his assailent. Another bullet was discharged and it missed him again.

CREAK BING BAM!!!!!!!!

A crate of bottles fell off a group of shelves on the wall next to Peter. At the last minute, Peter felt the displacement of air and managed to move out of the way just in the nick of time to avoid getting injured by flying glass. He laid on the floor, turned his head, and found himself staring into the barrel of a gun.

"This has been fun Caine, but now it's time to join your father." Masterson stood over Peter, and cocked the gun. His finger ready to pull the trigger. "I hate you. You never had to suffer the way I have. You had not one but two fathers who loved you. Do you know what it's like to have to beg your own father to love you, to accept you to be a part of your life? NO YOU DON'T! It should have been me. I should have gotten the promotions, the accolades, I should have had my father in my life like you did. You took away everything that meant anything to me. Now I took something away from you. How does it feel, Caine, how does it feel to lose your father? For good this time!" His hand was shaking and his breathing came hard as his anger grew.

Peter quickly took advantage of this small opportunity and brought up his hand where he could focus his chi. The gun glowed red hot and Masterson dropped it in surprise and pain. With that opportunity lost to him, Masterson did not see Peter rise from the floor and kick out. Masterson went flying across the room. Peter jumped over the conveyor belt and continued his assault on his father's killer. He pulled Masterson's legs from under him and tried to wrestle him on the floor, but Masterson rolled out of the way and climbed to his feet. He took a swing at Peter, but Peter easily evaded the blow. He kicked Masterson in the stomach, driving the air out of him. Peter's fist met his face and Masterson went down to the ground. Grabbing him by the collar, Peter stared down at his now helpless victim. Blind rage filled him as his chest heaved from the breaths he was fighting to take in.

"You will pay for my father's death. A life for a life."

Peter pulled out the ceremonial dagger from behind his coat and raised it above his head. He took pleasure in watching Masterson's face grow pale with terror.

"Peter, No!"

The words barely registered, but it was enough for him to hesitate. He slowly started to lower the knife, but shaking off the warning, he again lifted the knife into position.

"No, my son. Do not do this."

No. It was a trick. It couldn't be. Again Peter hesitated, this time confusion showed on his face. Then a hand reached up and grasped his. It was a familiar touch and yet it seemed impossible that it would be here. Then another hand brushed his face, cupping his cheek, and forcing Peter to face whomever it was that spoke to him.

"Please, Peter, do not do this," the familiar voice pleaded again and Peter's vision cleared.

"Father?" Peter's voice came out in a whispered gasp of confusion. His eyes moved up to his arm, still poised and he suddenly realized for the first time what he had nearly done. He dropped the dagger to the floor and grasped his father tightly in his arms. The sudden release of rage caused Peter to crumble and both men collapsed on the floor. Peter's emotions broke like a damn, flooding out. All the grief that he held in at what he thought he lost came rushing forth.

"Father, I'm so sorry."

Peter cried against his father's shoulder, soaking the collar of his silk shirt.

"It is all right, my son. You did not harm him. It is over. You are safe now."

Peter continued to cry unashamed as his father rocked him in his arms as he once did when Peter was a small boy. He continued to stroke his son's back until he could sense that there was no more rage left. Peter's soul was safe, once more.

Masterson watched in envious silence as his dreams of revenge were again thwarted, but grateful for once that his life had been spared, ironically, by the very man whom he had tried to destroy earlier. Then strong arms were lifting Masterson off the floor and his hands were being forced behind him and handcuffs were being placed around his wrists.

"All right Masterson," Kermit said. "You're under arrest. You two, you better witness this." Kermit said to Matthew and Lo Si standing by the door. "You have the right to remain silent. Should you choose to give up that right, everything you say may be taken down and used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. Should you refuse that right, an attorney may be appointed to you . . ."

Masterson barely heard the words as he continued to keep his eyes trained on the two men locked in each other's embrace.

'Why couldn't my father do that to me,' he thought. For once, Masterson regretted everything he had ever done. If only for the love of a father.

Kermit took the prisoner out to his Corvair. He enlisted the help of both Matthew and Lo Si to watch Masterson while he called in the bust. It would be another fifteen minutes before father and son were ready to leave the building.

Part 18

Caine breathed a deep sigh, then shuddered. Even though it had been several days since his ordeal, he continued to feel some of the effects of what the drug had done to him. He knew it would be a long time to recover. Annie had been by to check on him and had given him some of her homemade vegetable soup, perhaps at Peter's insistance. He was grateful that she had not suffered any lasting effects from being imprisoned by Masterson. When she told Caine what Masterson had done when they were separated, Caine had closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. Guilt filled him at not being able to help the mother of his son, but she assured him that she did not blame him. For now, he only wished the nightmares that have been a constant companion since his rescue would become a thing of the past. Still, in some way, he knew the nightmares were not his alone. Perhaps if he spoke to both Peter and Annie, it may help all of them to recover.

Caine shuddered again. Then a warm blanket was being wrapped around his shoulders, and he felt the presence of his son.

"Pop? Are you all right? Can I get you another cup of tea?"

"Peter. We need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about," Peter said, avoiding his father's gaze.

"You have been avoiding the issue of what happened at the brewery."

Peter grew silent and bent his head. His father was right, as usual, but he really wasn't sure what to say or even how to say it.

"My son, you were not the first to act out of grief and pain. Your great-grandfather also acted out of that same grief and rage, killing the emperor's nephew because he had shot his Master Po. For him Master Po had been like a father and he loved the man very much. In that instant, when Master Po lay dying, your great-grandfather forgot all his training and merely acted on what his heart desired most at that moment, revenge. And when he did that, he brought shame onto himself and the line of Caine. Though Master Po tried to absolve him of that shame, he knew that his favorite pupil would have to flee if he was to survive, if the temple was to survive."

"Temple, what does the temple have to do with my great-grandfather?" Peter asked with confusion. "And what does this have to do with Masterson?"

"My father told me of a story that his father told him when he escaped China and was on a ship bound for America. My father told me how my grandfather had a conversation with the shade of his Master Po," Caine said.

"Shade? You mean ghost?"

"Yes." Caine continued the tale as if that conversation had taken place that very day, and as he spoke, images came to Peter just as clear as if he was witnessing the event himself.

***

On the great ship, in the hold where he had been smuggled away, Caine looked up to see Master Po sitting on a pile of crates. He blinked at first, not sure if the apparition was real. The expression on his Master's face was both tender and solemn. Then he spoke.

Po: You have escaped as I knew you would.

Caine: I do not know why, Master. I would rather have stayed.

Po: Why?

Caine: Because the temple has been destroyed. Because the temple is no more, the monks have fled, the order is broken. I have brought shame upon the people whom I love; it would have been better if I had stayed in China and turned myself over to the Imperial House for retribution.

Po: And would they have not destroyed the temple if they had you to destroy?

Caine: I would have hoped so. I would have made that offer, taken that risk.

Po: Don't be rediculous. They would have killed you and the temple. They wanted that excuse; have wanted it for decades. The temple has been destroyed before. It will be rebuilt.

Caine But perhaps . . .

Po: No. You must not wreak vengeance upon yourself. The temple has always been destroyed and has been rebuilt. The Imperial House does not understand what we understand. The temple exists within us. You are the temple. They can only destroy it through you but if you flee then you are saved and the temple is saved. Don't you see that? Don't you see that now? WE are the temple. That part of your life is over. There will be another part. You will go through all of it.

Caine: And will you be with me?

Po: In your memory. For life is without end. You are not to blame for what has happened but indeed have committed an act of great love and sanctity. You attempted to salvage the temple because you would not see one of us destroyed. I will always be with you in some part of yourself.

*****

"As I will always be a part of you, my son," Caine finished.

"I, I never thought about it in that way before," Peter said. "Was that why you didn't rebuild the temple, because it was always a part of you?"

"As it is a part of you. The temple may be rebuilt some day, when there is a need for it, but for now, the temple will always remain within us. We are the temple, my son."

"I still do not understand what this has to do with Masterson?" Peter questioned again.

"In my grandfather's journal, there is an entry referring to a time two years prior to the death of his master. He learned that the emperor's nephew had wanted to enter a Shaolin temple, but he had been rejected. He wrote of his confusion why someone would be refused entry. He had seen it many times with children, seeing that they lacked the patience, but he believed that being it was the Emperor's nephew, he would receive special treatment, but he had not. Perhaps the nephew also felt, because of his position, he would also be accepted. And when he had not, felt a deep rage of jealously and rejection, and upon seeing Master Po, sought revenge for his rejection. Master Po was merely his instrument for that revenge against all Shaolin at that point in time. Was not Masterson acting out his rage at being rejected? Was not Annie and I that instrument, pawns, for his revenge?"

"I guess so." Peter responded.

"Because the emperor's nephew died, there was no opportunity for him to learn that perhaps there might have been another chance for him to enter the temple and learn the ways of the Shaolin. By destroying Master Po, his feet were set upon a path that led only to death. By allowing Masterson to live, perhaps there may be another opportunity for him to know love once again, to know acceptance, rather than rejection."

"Then if you would have died, and had I succeeded in killing Masterson, I would have been the one to bring shame back upon the line. And then the line would have ended with me, because I would've chosen to kill myself. I truly would have been the last."

"But I did not die, and you did not kill Masterson," said Caine, swallowing the lump of emotion that formed in his throat as he continued. "Or yourself."

"Then perhaps there's hope for both of us. Pop, I'd like to try to help him. I never realized how much pain he must have felt to have done what he did. Do you think he'll let me? I mean, if I try, maybe it may help me to forgive him and to understand more."

"Yes, my son. I think that is a very admirable suggestion."

"I love you, Pop."

*****

Masterson sat in his cell at the small table that was used as a desk. Slowly he picked up the marker and began to draw. Crude images of a man appeared. A rope was around the image's neck. 'You should have been the one to die,' he thought. 'You were the one who did this to me. I had everything. Father, you and your sense of family.' Suddenly, tears began to fall. 'I'm sorry, Caine. It wasn't your fault. I know that now. It was his, his because he turned his back on me. One day, Father. One day.'

End