Missing

By Maria Wiberg

PART 1

Karen Simms could not wait to get back to the precinct, four days in Atlanta was definitely enough. Leaning back in her tourist class seat instead of her double booked first class seat she wondered what else could go wrong before she got home.

This nightmare week had started with the last minute cancellation of two of the three seminars that had attracted her to the police convention in the first place. Then the friends she had hoped to get together with from her academy days had stood her up. A waiter had dropped a tray of champagne over her at the conference banquet and she'd locked herself out from her room. Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong.

Half way back to the city, the captain informed them that the flight would be delayed due to heavy traffic. She moaned and closed her eyes to ease the headache accumulating behind her eyes. Now absolutely convinced that her luggage was on its way to New York, what else could possibly go wrong?

It was midnight when she finally made it home without her bags, they were not in New York, they were still in Atlanta. She crashed down on the bed and promptly went to sleep, she didn't even bother to undress. Who knows she might break a leg tripping over her skirt. She only wanted this nightmare to be over.

~~~

The 101st precinct was empty except for one tall lanky and fair-haired man in his early thirties, impatiently pacing and constantly chewing on his nails and two very dark-skinned, dark-haired men that only seemed half his size.

"Hey, hey, hey, lets get this thing wrapped up guys. We got all we need here. Our target is just about to arrive in this fair city, we need to be long gone by then."

"OK, boss. All traces of our presence here is just about cleaned up."

"Good, we need to get our dear friends loaded" he smiled wickedly and mocked; "and loaded."

The gang of three met up with two others in the basement and soon they were gone.

~~~

The next morning Karen Simms woke with the sun. Eager to get to work she set off towards the 101st. Thinking, wishing, her unlucky spell was over and everything was back to normal now that she was home again. She made it as far as the parking lot at the precinct before she noticed anything weird.

No cars. She knew she was early but not that early. There should have been at least a couple of squad-cars and attending officers cars there. Puzzled she went up the steps and into the station. She didn't expect it to be too loud and chaotic just yet, but what she got was complete silence. Not a soul in sight as she went towards her office. Not a phone rang, only static from the police-radio. She stopped at the coffee-maker while trying to figure out what was happening. A practical joke? No, she decided. Something terrible must have happened. A bomb? Poisonous gas? Was she in danger just being in here? Her thoughts was racing while she desperately looked around the squad room for clues. Trying her best not to panic.

Jody's desk was as cluttered with case files and overdue paperwork as always. Skalany's on the other hand was almost empty with only a single file turned open and her badge and handbag still on her desk. A screwdriver and a bunch of electronic wires was laid out on Blake's, just as if he was about to do something with them. She peeked into Kermit's office, and saw what she never thought she would see in her lifetime. His computer was logged on and unlocked, showing a page of his last search, and he was not there.

A chill ran down Karen's back. Her precinct looked like one of those abandoned ghost ships. Everything seemed as if everybody had disappeared between one breath and the next. Not a single sign of struggle.

Rushing around in one last attempt to find someone she opened every door she could find, desperately wanting it to be just a prank. No such luck.

Finally she went into her own office to start her investigation with a couple of phone calls. Only to find out the reason why the phones had been so quiet. No problem, she picked up her cellphone instead. She smiled briefly when it actually worked and had enough power left.

Still denying the obvious she tried her detectives first. No luck, none of them could be reached by phone. She tried their beeper numbers just in case. Then she started calling other precincts in the city. Soon she could pinpoint the time. Nobody had heard anything from the 101st since around four the day before.

An hour and a half after she had entered her empty precinct she called Commissioner Kincaid to request help.

PART 2

Two days later and the 101st precinct just barely coped with the most basic police duties. Karen had to borrow personnel from all over the city just to get things working. And then there was the question of what had happened. The FBI had waltzed in and taken over the investigation with their usual finesse. Without too much hassle Karen got them to agree to keep her informed. It was after all her precinct.

Kincaid had the whole police-force on red alert. He was bringing in experts from all over the place, not caring that the feds were the ones formally in charge. Of course they had not been able to keep it out of the news, so by then the whole country was on the lookout for her missing people. Not a word from any of her missing staff or from any kidnappers helped the search along.

Trying to get some order into the chaos of her mind she started to recap the facts of the case. Trying to keep her personal fears out and concentrating on just what she knew.

She was not the only one spared. Five other officers had been away from the precinct that dreadful day. Three were on sick leave and two were on vacation.

The main communication to the precinct had been cut in the basement just where the cables entered the building. Both computers and phones had lost contact with the outside world at the same time.

Traces of a strong sedative gas had been found in the ventilation system. This more than anything told them that her colleagues didn't just walk out of there by themselves. And it explained the reason why there had been no sign of struggle.

A huge hole in the basement floor led down to the sewers. That explained why there were no outside witnesses. Since all personnel rarely were at the precinct at the same time they must have stayed a while snatching officers as they went on duty or reported in before leaving.

And then there was the question of how many civilians, crime suspects, lawyers or other unregistered visitors to the precinct that had disappeared at the same time. So far only five had been reported to be missing. Could be a lot more.

Karen felt the fear as a huge weight on her heart. She missed her newfound lover and companion, Kermit. It was as if a huge part of her had been ripped out when he had disappeared. He had always been there for her in troubled times, not this time. She had always took pride in keeping her cool, just like Kermit, now it was as if she never had it. She was yelling at everything and everybody, justified or not.

She lost her temporary calm again when one of the crime-technicians came back up from the sewer to report that all traces disappeared in a garage two blocks south of the building. Then she punched a hole in her desk drawer with her high heeled shoe. Her visitor quickly disappeared out of her office while she bent down to pull the shoe free from the drawer.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit", she repeated over and over like a broken record as she sunk down on her chair again, her visitor already forgotten.

~~~

"Hey, careful with that crate, you jerk!" the tall man shouted at the man driving it recklessly with a forklift from the truck towards the crane that was already loading another wooden crate onto the large container-ship.

He didn't get much of a reaction from the driver but he did slow down just a little. It was dark in the shadow of the warehouse and the light rain did cover their activities up but he didn't want to risk any outsider finding out what was in those crates.

"God I hate to depend on these lowlife jerks to do my legwork", he complained to himself as he spat out another nail and got working on his next finger.

~~~

Karen woke up the next morning on the desk, she must have passed out last night of sheer exhaustion and none of her new staff had the nerve to wake her up. It took a minute before she identified the faint but persistent sound that had awakened her, her computer. It was still on and beeping. She looked at it and noticed an urgent marked e-mail in her In-basket. "KERMIT" was her first thought and she immediately hit the read-button. Next reaction was slight disappointment, it was not from Kermit at all. It was from an old acquaintance of hers who worked for the DEA.

Subject: 101st PRECINCT

From: Moore <moore@mail.com>

To: simms@101.police.us

Karrie, I may have information about your missing staff. Meet me at the old condemned Church on Harvey at 09.00 hours.

And COME ALONE, I'm doing this at great personal risk, as usual.

Sam

 

"A lead, finally a lead", Karen said aloud to herself as she erased the message.

"You got something?", smiled Commissioner Kincaid while leaning on the door-frame.

Karen jumped high in her chair "How long have you been standing there?"

"Hmm, not long, just enough to see the happy face when you read that message, Why are you so nervous?" he said as he lit a big cigar and started blowing the smoke at her.

"It's no smoking in here Kincaid, and what are you doing here? Have you found something out?" she was back in snappy mode again. She didn't like Kincaid very much. She had to cooperate with the guy but not more. She never did understand how he could be the father of TJ.

"No I haven't, all my sources have turned up dry", he said calm and steady and asked again if she had something to go on.

The first thing she thought of was to fill him in on the details but she decided to trust her gut feeling about him and keep her new source of information to herself. Not even commissioners were above corruption, that she had learned from history. "No, nothing yet. What you oversaw was a break on another case. We do have other cases you know. Life goes on, Commissioner."

When Kincaid finally left she almost ran to her car. She looked at her watch, ten minutes to rendezvous. The traffic was easy on a Sunday morning, but it was still too far. She didn't make it quite in time and all the way there she had a feeling that she was being watched, that someone or something was following her. Too late to be able to make sure she made a skidding stop in front of the church five minutes past nine.

Dashing in through the gate she immediately stopped dead. She had not realized the church had been reopened and mass was now in full progress. Too embarrassed to do anything she silently stood in the back trying to make out where Moore was.

She didn't see him so she sat down in the last row to wait. He probably wanted to make sure she actually was alone or maybe he was as surprised to see the church in use as she was.

Thirty minutes later she was still waiting, no sign of Moore. What nagged at her now was trying to figure out if one of the heads up front on the first row belonged to Peter Caine or not. It sure looked like him from behind and even in profile, but what would he be doing in a Catholic Church? She had not seen or heard anything from him or his father in two years.

When he left the precinct she never thought he would stay away long. In her eyes he was a cop at heart and this priest thing would be a passing fling. He was not his father. But she had been proven wrong. Sure he stayed in touch with them frequently and helped out on numerous cases but not a word about coming back. And then one day he had left, just like his father used to do.

As she continued to burn her hole in the man's neck he turned and smiled at her. It was Peter all right.

PART 3

When mass was over an hour later and people started to drop off she had given up hope to see Moore. She decided to forget him for the moment and went to talk to Peter. He was still up front, talking to the boys in the choir and the Catholic priest. Now when she got a better look at him she realized he looked more like his father than ever before. His hair was longer and bleached by the sun. His simple white silk tunic made him look even more tanned than usual. His jeans were as tight fitting as they used to but he was wearing sandals and a pouch over his shoulder just like Kwai Chang did. But that was just about all that resembled his father, the rest was pure Peter. He was as animated and talkative as he used to be. He ran his hand through the long hair several times while she was watching him from a distance.

When Karen got closer Peter excused himself from the group and turned to give her his full attention. And that meant a happy face and a big hug.

"Captain Simms, how wonderful to see you again!" he said over her shoulder without letting go.

"You too, Peter", she mumbled, touched by his show of affection.

Both their eyes were wet, though not in tears, when they finally parted. When she looked up at him she saw a man at peace with himself. Not the haunted, angry and insecure face of the Peter Caine she used to know. This was a different man. She wondered what he saw in her face. Pain? Confusion? Anger? Fatigue? All of them true.

"What's going on at the precinct nowadays, Captain? I haven't gotten round to visiting yet. I've only been in town a couple of days and would you believe it, already, folks around here are lining up for my assistance." He paused when he saw her surprise. "What?, is something wrong, Captain?"

She sighed. "Oh Yeah, and that's the understatement of the day"

"Come, sit, tell me all about it. Maybe I can help, Captain", Peter said and moved her over to the bench next to them.

"Three days ago my whole precinct disappeared", she said with a helpless sigh. "We don't have much to go on. I was hoping for a lead, I was supposed to meet an old friend here today."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. What do you mean, disappeared. The whole building is gone?", Peter interrupted

Karen smiled bleakly. "No, the building is still there, its everybody working there that's gone, Peter. Every single soul working this last Thursday is just gone, poof, vaporized, just not present anymore." Her despair obvious in her voice.

"It's okay, it's OK, Karen" Peter whispered as he squeezed her shoulders in a hug. "I'll do everything in my power to help you find them. They are my friends too, you know. Can't let anything bad happen to them, can I?"

"Thank you, Peter. God knows we could use your help. We're getting nowhere in this investigation, and I could use my best detective on this case" she said as she straightened herself up and wiped her wet eyes.

Peter took charge of the situation immediately. "Lets start with this friend of yours, if he's still around we'll find him. He might have been as startled as you were to find this place occupied when he got here. Do you think he might stay away if I'm around?"

"He knows when to be cautious", Karen said as she rose to take a closer look round the place. "We were partners once…"

~~~

"C'moon Karrie, lets gooo. You gotta be the No. One paperwork junkie in the City…the World", Sam Moore yelled at Karen as he almost jumped up and down, eager to get their next investigation started.

Karen just smiled patiently as she finished up the report. She knew he was only teasing and felt no urge to defend herself. "Just you wait, Sam. Next case the job is all yours", she teased back as she put the file in their Captains inbox and rushed after her eager partner down the stairs.

~~~

Karen smiled at the fond memory as they parted to look around the small place. "He didn't start out that way though, I had to hold him back many a time before he got to his senses about danger. He used to rush in head first at the mere mention of action. A wonder any of us survived those years." Karen shook her head at the memory.

"Sounds like me before Pop showed up again", Peter smiled back from the other end of the room.

In a moment of silence, Peter happened to look behind a table with homemade candles and found Sam laying behind and partly under it.

"Over here, Captain", he called out as he bent down over the lifeless body of a man in his early forties, dressed in black. The graying blond hair and the floor was covered in blood.

Peter turned him carefully over to get a better look at the wound on the back of the man's head. "He must have taken a hit to the back of his head, he's bleeding, but I can't sense any cracks", Peter told Karen as she came running. He concentrated on the chi of the man, only to find it almost gone already, a lingering feeling of failure filled his senses. He was too late.

Peter opened his eyes and met the tears of Karen's. "He's dead isn't he", she whispered.

"Yes, there was nothing I could do, I'm sorry" Peter answered with his voice thick with the sense of failure.

"Don't feel sorry, Peter. This is not your fault", Karen comforted Peter with a hand on his shoulder.

He tried to focus and a moment later he looked up at her. "The feeling of failure and sorrow is not mine, he died with the conviction that he had failed to protect you…failed to protect you against a burning wooden cross turned upside down."

PART 4

Less than half an hour later the old church was transformed into a busy crime scene. A scene that should have involved Peter's friends from the Hundred and first. Now, the only one he knew was the coroner, Nicky Elder. And he didn't have much to say in this case that Peter didn't already know.

Contemplating the very last piece of information he got from the dying man he slowly walked away from the busy scene. He had nothing more to do there. He had left a statement to the detective in charge and talked to Nicky about the headwound. Peter felt no compulsion or desire to be a part of the police investigation. He had his own investigating to do.

He scanned for suspicious characters and evil thoughts as he moved down the street. Didn't find any worth his attention, only an old brown Dodge sedan attracted his attention. As he moved towards it he turned his voice inward and called for attention, "~Hey, Pop~."

Seconds later he got a familiar response "~Yes, my son?~."

"~You were right, Pop. There's absolutely something evil going on in the City again. I made the right choice coming back. The whole precinct is missing and an old friend of Captain Simms is dead~." He couldn't help but sending the awful picture of Moore dead on the floor with the last sentence.

"~The signals were very vague, I could not determine the cause. I will meditate on this last information. I will let you know if I can locate any of our friends, son~", Caine sounded very concerned, and maybe a little surprised that he had not been able to sense more when so many people were involved.

"~Okay, Pop. Give mom a hug from me and I'll talk to ya later~"

"~I will, son.~"

Peter returned his full attention to the car, he rubbed his hands gently together and used the extra energy collected to open the lock. He slipped in and immediately knew he had the right car. He could feel traces of Moore's chi lingering in the driver's seat. Moore must have spent a lot of time there the last couple of days for it to be that strong.

Peter took a deep breath and centered himself, with his hands still on the steering wheel he eased into a meditative state. He traced Moore's chi backwards in time and soon found himself in the docklands, parked in the shadow of a warehouse, watching a large ship being loaded with crates. He scouted for the name of the ship but it was out of the spectator's point of view and Peter could only watch with the eyes of Moore. But the next warehouse to the right was numbered 153 and Peter knew he could find that one with some help.

Back in the present he searched the rest of the car, found nothing but empty coffee-mugs and donut wrappers. No files, no notes, nothing useful at all. "Lucky me, I'm Shaolin" he briefly thought as he gave up the search and left the car.

There must be some kind of connection to this case Moore was on, and the answer was probably in Karen's and Moore's past. That cross he had seen was not a recent occurrence.

He walked over to Karen's car to fill her in on his findings and get her help with what might be the connection.

~~~

Karen returned to the precinct in a more hopeful mood. The unexpected meeting with Peter had turned everything around. He had an air of confidence that he never had before. She didn't have the courage to ask where he had been those missing years but it had changed him profoundly. He seemed to use his Shaolin talents with a natural ease. He had even given her some clues that probably would get this investigation on the way. Things that would have been lost without him.

She knew better than asking exactly how he had known, she accepted the information and intended to act upon it.

And then there was that burning cross he had mentioned. It sounded so familiar…

~~~

A barely conscious Karen answered the phone by her bed. "Simms. This better be good" she grouched.

"There's another cross," her partner yelled urgently, "at the corner of Mason and third"

"I'll be there," she answered the sleepiness all gone. Not even ten minutes later she was out the door and on her way to the scene.

This was the sixth cross since this started only a month earlier. Always the same, she didn't have to ask, she knew there would be a burnt body nailed to that cross. She rarely used to have nightmares about cases but this was the exception.

She could see the crowd from a distance. This site was just as public as the others. Karen prayed silently for witnesses . None had stepped forward, and yet there must have been witnesses. The terror had a firm grip on the community.

This time it was a small child on the cross.

"We have to find the creep who does this Sam! This can't go on!" Simms roared to her partner out of frustration. "Please tell me we have a witness."

Sam smiled. "Yes Karen, we have not one but a whole bunch this time. They made one terrible mistake this time that made the whole difference. They burned a child. These bastards might get away with burning the local scum but this was too much."

"Yes!!!" Karen almost laughed but quickly got to her senses when she saw the small bodybag rolled away.

~~~

Karen still felt the chill of the memory when she parked her car by the precinct. Remembering the crazy couple who had committed those terrible crimes made her frown as she rushed towards the taskforce office to fill them in.

When the witnesses finally came forward after that last burning it was easy work finding the guilty party. They were husband and wife and had a pretty normal life in a middle class suburb but in the basement of the house they worshipped the Devil. What had happened to these people was one of the things she needed to find out. Thank God she had kept those old case files. But first she had to set the taskforce on the track of that tanker from warehouse 153. They could probably get some information about what Sam had been working on through the FBI channels.

PART 5

Peter entered his new residence. A place full of fond memories and sweat. It was the old kwoon. Or rather half of the old place. Since his father had moved out it had changed hands at least a dozen times and now it had been divided into two separate stores. The other half was now occupied by a tourist shop. Peter was more than happy to find the old place was vacant when he found out that his and his fathers old apartment had been taken over by a design company and the whole building was now completely transformed.

The vague feeling of danger that his father had sensed made a good excuse to go back home again. France was great but this city was home more than any other. No matter that both his parents now lived in St. Adele this city was where he belonged. It had taken something like the miracle that brought his mother back into his life to get him away from the friends and places he loved.

That miracle had also made his life whole like never before. The aching pain of loosing his mother had in one short hug been forever removed. Sadness forever banned from his heart. For the first time in his life he knew what it was like to love without doubt. Sure, he had felt at home and loved in the Blaisdell house, but the doubt had been there somewhere deep inside. And there had been the pain of loosing both his parents. A pain that could never be erased, only made easier to bear. Helping others was one thing that made that ache lighter. No situation was too dangerous, no task too difficult if he could lighten that pain.

Normally, he would be like anybody, your next door neighbor, the man washing your car or your younger brother. Then when something happened and there were danger, you would only need to look in his eyes to know he was on complete tilt.

The return of his father was the turning point. The pain diminished, balance slowly replaced the tilt and a new appreciation of life emerged from the ashes of Peter Caine. He started to get his life back on track. A rocky and not very straight one, that was a fact, but still it he felt it was back on track. A track that took him from cop to priest, from violence to peace, from pain to pleasure.

The return of his mother was the completion of that personal journey. Nothing could have stopped him from leaving when his father called from St. Adele to tell him that his mother was alive and with him.

When Peter got his mother on the phone he could hardly speak. "Mom, is it really you?" was all he could say.

"Yes, Peter, it's really me. Your father brought me back to life" Her voice filled with the joy and emotions of finally talking to her only child again.

"Mom, I love you", Peter's voice cracked completely and he cried like he had as a child. "Don't disappear on me again, I'll be on the next flight to France."

And he was. He just shut the place up and left. He didn't have a single thought of telling anyone at that moment. He just left. Nothing was more important than getting to France to see his mother again. He got to his senses later on the plane. That's when he called Annie and left a message for the Ancient. Annie was so happy for him, she knew his pain, knew this would finally heal it.

The small house, not much more than a cottage, that his grandfather lived in was the scene of the reunion. The small but comfortable livingroom witnessed the tears of joy and the laughter of a reunited family.

Peter held his mother for a long time. Just feeling her close to him was enough. He didn't need any explanations or excuses. The fact that they were once again together was enough. Sure he got explanations, but that was not until later.

Peter stayed.

He continued to help people as a Shaolin priest. It was a little harder to accomplish though, because in one blow he had lost one of his most important tools of the trade. He lost his ability to communicate with the people he wanted to help. He simply didn't speak any French.

He learned, but he felt he could not learn quick enough. And the words he did learn he didn't really trust. He lost a lot of the nuances of a native language. He found a way, just like nature always does. He started to trust his own psychic abilities. Somewhere in the back of his subconscious he had always known he had the very same talents his father had. When he had finished his training at the temple he learned that he had them but only occasionally he managed to tap into that source of strength. When he took the brands it was as if his chi had been lit up by a bright shine, a shine that had helped save his father in his very own struggle. But now he really started to actively explore it. There was nothing to stop or hinder him now. No doubts in his mind that this was not his true path.

He ended up firmly grounded in two worlds. The traditional Shaolin world of beliefs and the modern society. Both of them equally his. Something his father never managed to combine, cause he never completely left the traditional to really become one with the modern world. Peter had been one with the modern world for fifteen years it made him the one he was, and now he was as comfortable in both of them.

He knew this would be difficult to understand for most of his old friends in this city. But they would just have to accept him like he was. If only he could find them again.

Peter rummaged through the boxes left by someone in the community to find some candles. He needed to meditate. He needed to find the essence of his friends, his father was already searching, it was about time he joined in.

~~~

The ship was moving rapidly towards its South American destination.

Captain Guererro was more than happy this short journey was soon over. His demanding passenger made this short trip a living hell. The fact that he also owned the whole ship didn't make it any easier to endure the constant humiliation and verbal abuse. That guy was a complete crackpot and the sooner he was off the ship the better.

Just as he had done twice a day the last four days he sneaked down the back stairs into the lower cargo area. It was still early but he was still very careful not to be noticed by any of his crew. This was not a regular cargocarrier, the bottom layer of containers were fake. The bottom of the squares that the containers were slid down into had been welded with container tops so that it only looked like a bottom layer was already in place, when in fact the ship was empty.

Drugs, cigarettes, liquor, cars or whatever was on the market usually filled this compartment large enough to swallow a football field easily. This time only occupied by a large number of heavily sedated prisoners. The crew knew nothing about this, only the owner and the captain knew they had a secret cargo this time.

Guererro opened one of the well concealed loadingdoors, slid it open just enough to get inside and quickly shut it behind him again. He easily found the light-switch by the door and the place soon bathed in bright but cold light.

By the door was also a small crate with all he needed to keep these people well sedated and unconscious for the duration of this trip. No matter how hardened and ruthless he was when it came to smuggling he hesitated. Drugs and cigarettes was one thing, this was another matter.

Spread out across the naked floor between the thick supporting pillars were the rough cut wooden crates. The tops were off and inside was one or two of the prisoners, depending on their size and build. Guererro had searched many of them for some kind of identification. And discovered they were carefully stripped of anything personal, even their clothes. Only their underwear had been left under the single sheet that covered them. And that might be a good thing too, considering the high temperature in the ship this far south. Guerrero had not turned on the cooling-system he used for his more sensitive cargo this time.

Secretly he was considering not giving one of them as much as he should have. He wanted to know who these people were, and what they had done to end up like this. Prisoners of the man he himself feared and hated most in the world.

He loaded the injection gun and started doing what he was ordered. He was halfway through before he finally made up his mind, and with a short determined look on his face he just stepped past the next crate and then continued as usual. He didn't know how long it would take for the man to wake up, he was not one of the biggest but he looked fit enough for a middle aged man with graying hair. His boss had said that the dosage would keep the biggest of their prisoners well sedated for at least fourteen hours. Next time he was about to do this was just before they docked. That would be his only chance to ask this man what was going on.

PART 6

It was pitch black, Kermit could not see a thing when he opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the constant humming and grinding sound that made the ground vibrate. "Ahhh, my head", he moaned as he moved to sit up. He brushed against the crate edge with his naked elbow when he moved to hold his aching head and was again reminded that he did not like waking up in strange places. Had happened once too many times in his life already. And nothing good came out of it either. He turned his head and sniffed the air as he tried to figure out the weird sounds. Raw tobacco, oil, and something he could not place that reminded him of rotten fruit was in the air.

He felt the confinements of his surroundings and found himself in a wooden crate, he had some sheet covering the bottom and half of his body. He had splinters in his feet and arms from brushing against the rough surface of the crate. No matter how he tried to get used to the dark, it was impossible to even make out the hand in front of him. He considered the fact that he might have gone blind. But he could not sense any injuries and his eyes felt completely normal, something which could not be said about his head.

Slowly he maneuvered out of the box. Using hands and feet to feel his way. Not two feet from his crate he stumbled over another one. He bent over to feel if there was anybody in it. It was, two women. Slowly he tried to make out if it was someone he knew. Long wavy hair, bangs with mousse or spray, some fine wrinkles in the corners of the eyes, he blushed in the dark when he happened to touch two well formed breasts. This might be Skalany he thought, not quite sure if it was believable that any other members of the precinct were actually there.

He shook his head to clear the mist covering his mind. What had happened? He remembered sitting in his office, searching for information about one of his cases. And the next thing he woke up in this place. Something might have happened in the precinct, but he thought it more believable that it happened somewhere else and he just could not remember it at the moment.

He continued to explore the surroundings. There had to be a way out or at least a lightswitch somewhere.

"~Kermit~"

"Who's that?" Kermit blurted out and turned towards the sound, startled by the nearby voice behind him. Desperately trying to make out the owner of the voice in the dark.

"~Thank God I found you Kermit~" the voice continued with a noticeable relief in it.

"Peter, is that you?"

"~Yes Kermit, its me Peter. Where are you Kermit?~"

"I'm in the dark like you Peter, where are you? Keep talking I'll go towards your voice"

"~I'm back in the city Kermit. I'm only with you in spirit~" Peter's voice faded, "~ I'll be back Kermit, promise~",

"Peter, this is no good time to play tricks on me", Kermit shouted out in the dark.

No response but his own echo.

Kermit began to wonder if he was hallucinating already. He knew that would come if he didn't get out of the dark.

~~~

"Captain Simms, we may have made a breakthrough", the leader of the taskforce was smiling like never before. He actually looked friendly.

Simms, startled for a moment by the sudden intruder in her office, wanted to smile too. "What have you got?" she managed to ask, not really believing her ears.

"We got a positive identity of that ship Sam Moore had under surveillance. And we know where to find it too. Our sources are tracking its current position as we speak. It's on its way to South America, Colombia to be exact. Looks like a legitimate cargo transport but friends at the DEA are telling me the owner is a known smuggler and drug manufacturer in Colombia. They have been after this guy for years. Moore must have been made that night and paid with his life. What we and the DEA can't figure is what this guy has to do with our case."

"Well, I've been doing some investigating myself the last couple of hours, Michaels. The name of this guy doesn't happen to be Riley, would it? And believe me, if this is our guy he's got a major score to settle with none other than Moore and myself"

"How did you guess? Have you been withholding information from us?", Michaels didn't sound happy about it, his face turning from friendly to suspicious in a flash.

"Lets just say it was a hunch I had. I handed you the important stuff."

"Yeah, sure you did", the irony dripping from his mouth. "And just how did you come up with this line of investigation anyway, Captain Simms?"

"Lets just say I have my sources", Simms countered with a finality in the tone that shut him up. She was good at that, and now when she had something tangible to go on she finally got her lost edge back. "We work together on this, and I intend to my very best to nail this guy, understood?"

Michaels backed off. This was not a lady he wanted to cross, no matter how unhappy he was with the situation that she knew more.

PART 7

Peter woke from his short blackout on the floor of the kwoon. He shook his head. "Will I never learn?" he mumbled to himself as he stretched his stiff limbs. He had used up every last scrap of energy in his search just as he usually did. He admired his father and grandfather for being able to break it off just in time.

This time he was really quite happy he did continue to pursue that faint glimpse of Kermit. He had a connection now and more than a general direction of where to look.

He blew out the still burning candles in front of him and got up from the floor. He went over to one of the boxes he had searched earlier for candles. This time digging his old cellphone out of it. A cash card was tied to it with a red ribbon. A small thank you note from Jody, telling him to keep in touch when he got back, was scribbled on the back of it. He pushed the card into the slot at the bottom end of the phone and dialed the precinct.

"I know where they are", both of them said at the same time when he got Simms on the phone. Both of them just as eager to share the information.

"You do? The warehouse lead paid off?", Peter sounded as surprised as Simms.

"Yes, It paid off. In combination with the burning cross you mentioned I'm sure we're on the right track. How did you find out?"

"The Shaolin way, I've been in contact with Kermit's chi. He was disoriented but okay", Peter answered.

"Heh, I know I shouldn't have asked", Simms laughed as she realized this wasn't the old Peter she had on the line. This was the Shaolin Priest talking. "Thank God he's okay! What about the other's?"

"I don't know yet, I'll ask when I've gathered enough strength to attempt another contact."

"Okay, Peter."

"What's the plan? I'd really appreciate if you let me be a part of this Captain."

"If it was my decision to make, I'd be more than happy to have you Peter, you know that. But this is in the hands of the FBI and the DEA now and they will probably not be as willing. I'll talk to them, Peter."

"Okay, Captain. Call me when you know more. I'll do some additional research in the meantime."

"Call you?" Simms sounded surprised.

Peter laughed, he loved it when he could surprise people. "Sure, the cellphone is still working. Got a new number though."

"Oh", Simms laughed too, a bit embarrassed. Why shouldn't Peter have a phone?

She got the number and they agreed to talk later.

~~~

Two short hours later Simms made that call. The FBI had been hard to convince but not impossible. The fact that Peter was her source made the difference. She didn't have to tell them how he got his information. She let them assume that Peter had spoken to Sam before he died. And in a way he had.

"You're in the clear. The feds are going down there later this evening. You are tagging along. The fact that you are my source convinced them."

~~~

Kermit kept trying to find his way around in the dark. In a long row on his right there were crates with unconscious people in them. To the left he found a row of pillars supporting the roof. And beyond that another row of crates. He couldn't believe the large number of victims like himself. He couldn't but wonder why he had woke up when everybody else was still out cold.

Before he had reached the end of the row he heard the sound of footsteps coming closer. He quickly reached for the next pillar and tried to hide behind it, not knowing if it would do any good. The echoes made it hard to actually hear from which direction they approached.

A door slid open and the intruding light made Kermit aware that he was only a few yards from the door. He saw the dark silhouette of a short stubby, bearded man enter. Not anticipating the sudden flooding light made Kermit temporarily blind again when the man switched it on.

Kermit was a dangerous man, but not at this moment. Still blind, now by the bright light, and weakened by the days without food or water he didn't have the strength to put up a fight.

"Why am I here? Why are all of us here? Who are you?" he called out. Not even trying to hide any more, knowing it to be futile.

"I hope you tell me that", the man answered, he had a South American accent and sounded like he wasn't all that good at English.

"You keep us sedated and unconscious, and you don't know why?" Kermit didn't believe the man and it was obvious in his voice.

"The owner of this ship, he load crates onboard and then make me keep you asleep. I don't like. I wake you up to find out who you are and what you do to deserve this."

The man was nervous. Kermit could hear it in the voice as easily as the accent. He slowly removed his arm from his eyes to finally see the Latino he was talking to. "I'm a cop, they call me Kermit," he offered. When he saw the man was unarmed he turned his back to him and walked away from him to find out who the other victims were. "Lets find out if I know the others."

"Oh maan, a cop", Kermit's keeper moaned. " I tell him I want no part in this."

Kermit frowned as he walked along the first row of crates. Then running randomly over to the other rows revealed to him by the light.

"They're all cops!" Kermit was getting pissed as he realized it really was his coworkers from the 101st precinct in the other crates. All of them. How could someone have pulled this off? "A whole precinct of them!"

Guerrero looked even more scared now. He just knew he would be in trouble for this. Deep trouble.

"Hey, get a grip will ya!" Kermit shouted at the man as he saw the man fall apart in front of him. "If you help me and the others escape I promise that you will not get in trouble for this", he comforted as he held the man up by his shoulders.

"Okay, sir. I help you get off ship. But I cannot do anything about the others. He will know."

~~~

Dressed as a crewman Kermit walked off the ship without any trouble at all the next morning when the rest of the cargo was being unloaded. He squinted in the bright sun, wishing he had his sunglasses. The crates below had been unloaded first. In the early morning when not many were around to see. Not that anybody in that harbor would ever stick their nose into his business anyway. It was not healthy to be nosy in this part of the world. This worked in Kermit's favor too, nobody asked who he was or asked him to show any papers.

"This is my world too, now you're in trouble!" he mused to himself as he watched while the last of the many trucks were loaded with crates. He moved into position on a container top beside the entrance to the area. He had no intention of loosing sight of his friends. First he needed to know where they were taken. And then he intended to free them.

With an easy jump onto the canvas roof of the truck and a quick crawl back to the opening, he was soon resting comfortably on top of the cargo. Or as comfortable you can get on a rough wooden surface that was in constant movement.

~~~

Peter shut his eyes and almost held his breath as the cargoplane started to catch speed on the runway. He hated to fly just as much now as he ever did, he was just not able to relax in the air. And this was his second flight in a short time. He had talked himself into flying back home, promising himself it was the last flight in a long while. And there he was, flying again only days later.

Airborne. Peter let his breath out again. Takeoff was the hardest part, he fully expected the aircraft to never get off the ground every time. And just as all the other times they made it into the air once again.

The last few hours had been chaos, the strike team had prepared for a small war. Guns, grenades and all kinds of other deadly gadgets Peter didn't even have a name for had been loaded into the bulky aircraft. They had tried to make him use them but he refused. He was more than tempted to take his old gun, but decided not to. He was not going there to kill people, he was going there to find and rescue his friends. Plenty of ways to do that without a gun.

Peter knew he wasn't really incorporated into their plans, they saw him as an observer or a liability. They tolerated him but not much more. He didn't mind. He was coming along and he didn't need them to find his friends. Kermit was already keeping an eye on them for him.

When they leveled out on 10 000 feet Peter managed to relax enough to meditate and get an update on Kermit's whereabouts.

"~Kermit? Are you there?~"

PART 8

The conversation was once again cut short as the plane entered a very turbulent airstream. Only a few moments later it started to get really uncomfortable and Peter could not keep his concentration in that kind of environment. Peter had his seatbelt firmly fastened, but that didn't make him any less scared. He looked at the faces around the small cabin, most of his companions looked like this happened all the time. They smiled at him, making encouraging handsignals. Peter tried to smile back but didn't really succeed, it looked more like a desperate grin.

As the cargoplane was thrown around in the air like a toy Peter had a hard time keeping his breakfast down. His fellow passengers had no such troubles, they joked around just like before. Peter tried desperately to keep his problem to himself, but his pale complexion shifting in green made it pretty obvious. "I will never fly again, I will never fly again!", he repeated to himself as he wallowed in pity by himself.

The balance of a Shaolin priest was gone, long gone when the trip finally was about to end hours later. All he could think about was keeping his stomach contents down, he even forgot to be scared as they touched down on the grass covered runway in the middle of the jungle. Even before they had come to a complete stop Peter was out of his seat, opening the cabin door. When he was sure that they moved slow enough he was out of it, leaping, rolling and then running in one smooth movement towards the bushes and trees at the edge of the very narrow runway.

With still too much speed he stumbled as he tried to jump and fell face down in the dirt behind the bushes. On his hands and knees a moment later he released the tension in one big hurl.

Oblivious to his surroundings he remained in his hunched up position for minutes, relaxing, enjoying the firm, unmoving ground below his hands and legs. Releasing the tension and fear of the last hours he almost laughed as he sat down and wiped off his face and nose with a handful of leaves.

Gunfire and explosions woke him up from his pleasant dreams. "Shit!" he swore as he crawled through the bushes to see what was happening. Not more than fifty meters from his position his companions were brutally slaughtered. Eight men in two canvas covered jeeps, painted camouflage green, had surprised the rescue party. A shot or two were fired in return but they never had a chance with their own firepower still packed.

Helplessly he watched as they loaded the bodies onto the plane. There was no way he could take all of these guys out. But maybe they could give him a lift. Still hidden behind the bushes and trees he quickly advanced towards the closest jeep, being utterly careful not to be noticed, using every ounce of his Shaolin training to keep them from noticing him. Even keeping a sneeze or two in when his nose got overloaded with the foreign fragrances of the jungle.

As the two men left on the ground got seated in their jeeps Peter snuck into the back of one of them. He squeezed himself in behind the back seats without too much trouble, the driver never noticed him. He found himself sharing the narrow space with a toolbox poking his ribs and a bag of clothes for a pillow. Carefully he moved the box as the jeep leaped forward to make room on the runway for the cargoplane to take off. He made himself as comfortable as possible, he had absolutely no idea where he was going or how long it would take to get there.

~~~

"Peter?", Kermit called out, his throat sore and dry, when he heard his name spoken with a familiar voice. No answer. One moment he wanted to shout, wanted desperately to make Peter hear him. The next moment he shook his head, firmly believing he finally was over the edge, his mind slipping just as his body betrayed him. Thinking Peter was talking to him, he was definitely going over the edge this time. Two years without a word from the kid and now he was talking to him in his mind. That drug must have some other side effects than extreme dehydration and fatigue. "Why am I kidding myself here? I'm alone!" he told himself out aloud.

Another of the frequent bumps in the badly paved road combined with a sharp right turn made him focus on reality again as he fell off the edge of the crate stack. When he got his bearings back he soon saw that the truck had turned off the paved road, onto a narrow dirt passage among the trees.

Believing his journey to be soon over he got prepared to jump off the truck. He leaned against the crates at the very back of the truck, desperately holding onto the edges of the crates behind him, the foot wide space between the crates and the edge did not allow him to keep his balance or sit down. Pure will power kept him upright and conscious back there.

His stubbornness paid off, not more than five minutes later the truck slowed and stopped. Not wasting a second he was out of the truck, crouching down behind it to get his bearings before he could run off into the thick jungle. In front of the truck the jungle abruptly ended with a high barb wire fence around a clearing. Kermit could not see how big, he was too low to the ground to see more than about a hundred meters of wasteland ahead. To the left was a small hut, housing the two green clad soldiers guarding the gate. One of them now opened the gate as the other briefly checked out the identity of the driver.

Kermit didn't wait around, he wanted to get further away from the gate and the fence before he could relax. It was hard work moving through the vegetation and he didn't have much strength left. But this was an environment he knew some useful stuff about, and along the way he was able to find several edible plants and water collected in leaves and flowers. It was refreshing, but not enough to keep him awake for much longer. Well out of sight from the fence and the gate he found himself a climbable tree. Up there, six meters above ground, completely unseen he finally let himself fall asleep.

~~~

If Kermit had stayed a minute longer by the gate he would have seen the jeep Peter was hiding in pass the gate. This time the guards didn't even check out the driver, they didn't know him personally, but he had the camp uniform and he was expected. That worked in Peter's favor, if they had so much as peeked in the back they would have seen him.

The driver drove up to the main building, a huge villa in Mexican hacienda style, and parked beside two other jeeps just like it. Sitting up in the back he quickly checked the surroundings. Four camouflage painted trucks was parked not far from him and when he saw a fifth was being unloaded a bit further down the rounded hill his instincts immediately told him he was in the right place. Nobody was close enough to notice Peter.

Without delay he climbed from the back seat and opened the clothes bag he'd been resting on to see if he could find anything useful. He did, in a minute he was dressed in the same uniform as the rest of the men he saw down the hill. Climbing out the passengers side he stretched and yawned, acting as if he had taken a nap in the back seat.

Then he walked down the hill towards the soldiers unloading crates, feeling the adrenaline rush of undercover work giving him a thrust forward. The mixed feeling of fear, anticipation and anger raging through his body made it difficult to keep the Shaolin peace of mind. It had been a long time since he had been in a dangerous situation like this one. Being Shaolin was easy when things were quiet and under control but in a danger situation like this the cop instincts still kicked in.

The guy in charge gave Peter a welcoming smile and gestured him to give the others a hand. Peter quietly did as he was told, thankful that he wasn't questioned. Now he had a little while longer to come up with a story why he was there. And he also had the opportunity to study the others.

Peter soon found out what was in the crates they carefully moved into the low barracks. His former coworkers. Peter's heart ached for them when he carefully lifted the unconscious bodies onto the narrow beds with nothing but a thin mattress covering the metal frame. The others didn't bother to even cover the undressed prisoners with the sheet from the crate, and afraid to stick out, neither did Peter. But contrary to the others he did make sure they rested comfortably, even if it looked like he just threw them onto the mattress too.

Within hours Peter knew that all of the soldiers were strangers, gathered for a well paid guard job. They were mercenaries or criminals and all of them seemed to have some accent revealing that they were not from the USA or North America. Peter decided to play *Frenchie*, he knew that accent good enough to dream in it. And he could talk French too if he needed to.

By the end of the day Peter and the other guards found their way to the third barrack, the one without bars on the windows and in better condition. No holes in the roof or mold on the walls. And thankfully the beds weren't the same either, these were standard military bunk beds. He then knew there would be no possibility of solitude, he would be constantly together with the other guards.

Until his unconscious friends woke up and recovered from this he had to be one of the guards. Before he could do anything to help them he had to be trusted, accepted by these people. And then of course, he needed to come up with a plan. Then there was the question about how to find Kermit too. He knew he was somewhere outside the fence, waiting for an opportunity to help his friends. That night he went to bed with an aching body and a spinning head. No way he could pull himself together enough to make a connection home that night. Not even with his father.

~~~

"Captain Simms?", the taskforce leader queried as he entered her office with a light knock.

"Yes, agent Michaels. Any news from our rescue team?" she sounded hopeful.

"No, that's just it", he paused, "I'm worried. The team didn't report in when they were supposed to, when they got off the plane and set up camp down there." He looked just as worried as he sounded. "These guys don't just skip a contact, they are professionals. And if they failed to report something very bad must have happened."

"Don't worry, Michaels. They might just have broken the radio or something. I'm sure I will hear from Peter if they are in trouble", Simms tried to rationalize the news. Not wanting to loose her grip on the hope she had let into her heart the other day.

Michaels looked like a question mark. "Hear from Peter? I don't follow you there. How can he contact you if the others cannot contact us?"

"He's a Shaolin priest!" she said as if it explained everything.

"Whatever, I just wanted you to know what was happening", the FBI agent snapped as he left her again. Thinking this lady had cracked under the pressure.

Karen had trusted Peter when he had said that no matter what happened, he would bring all the kidnapped officers back. Including Kermit. But the words of the FBI agent sent a chill down her spine.

"Please God, let them be safe!" she prayed silently.

PART 9

Late the next morning the prisoners started to stir in their beds. Peter and the guards were standing by with water, food and clothes. It would be a busy morning, taking care of over a hundred people was a full time job for the small group of guards. Peter stayed out of the barrack as much as he could, didn't want his still disoriented friends compromising his cover by mistake.

Jody slowly woke with a painful headache and a stiff aching body. She tried to orient herself before she reluctantly opened her eyes, the hard bed and the damp odor didn't make sense to her at all. She opened her eyes to a world that was not what she expected. The dim light revealed long rows of narrow beds with people laying in weird positions as if they were just dumped there. She looked around the place and noticed the molded white walls, tin roof and the dirt floor as well as the bars in the small holes posing as windows. She had no idea where she was. The last thing she could remember was sitting at her desk in the precinct.

She stood on shaky legs to step over to the bed next to her and find out if it was anybody she knew. It was.

"Blake?", she called as she gently shook her colleague to wake him up. He didn't respond. She shook him again, harder this time. Still no response.

Fearful she stumbled over to the next bed, not wanting to find another of her friends unconscious. But she did. Mary Margaret, TJ, Broderich, she tried to wake them all but none reacted to her efforts until at least an hour later. By then Jody was bathed in sweat and almost out again from the effort of trying to wake the others up.

She faintly banged the locked metal door. Not really expecting an answer from outside she sank down to the floor, resting her head against the door. Two seconds later it opened and she fell backwards out of it. A black soldier looked down at her with a cold smile.

"Guten morgen, freulein", he greeted with a sneer.

Jody quickly crawled inside again, away from him. "Where am I? Who are you? Why are we prisoners?"

"Shut up, freulein!" was the only response she got before he turned around and called the other guards. "They are vaking up, get going!" he shouted and then entered the barrack to check the state of the prisoners himself.

"What is this?" Jody persisted.

"You vill get explanation later, first you put on clothes and have breakfast outside", he raised his voice and almost pushed her towards the open door, "MOVE."

The sun blinded her as she stumbled down in the gravel outside, hurting her knees and hands. Rough hands got her standing again and a bundle of cloth was given to her. She held her arm over her eyes to see what was going on around her. Two guards were opening crates and pulled out hospital scrubs in bright blue just like the one she just got.

"Get dressed!" another harsh voice commanded her.

Fumbling she did like she was told while she scouted the immediate area. She had to get oriented before she could even try to make sense out of this situation. To one end she saw fields with some kind of crop, and uphill a huge hacienda, in between was a field kitchen set up under a canvas shade but no seats or tables. They weren't kidding her, she could have food and drink.

Behind her Blake came stumbling through the door too. She caught him just in time before he fell.

"What's going on Jody?" he whispered.

"I don't know Blake. But I have a feeling we will know soon enough."

Jody and Blake limped over to the kitchen to get some water and food while waiting for the others to wake up and for more news about what was going on.

It took hours before all were awake and gathered outside. It was pure torture, the sun only got hotter and hotter by the hour. The shade the cook and the guards were enjoying was not for the prisoners. They had to sit out in the sun. Their only comfort being the unrestricted access to fresh water.

Then, a man climbed out of a very out of place looking white limousine that arrived in a cloud of dust. He was tall and looked almost anorectic in his tight fitting white suit. His light, almost white hair was neatly combed back from his tanned face. A face with very sharp cut features and dead blue eyes that made him look evil.

The man climbed on top of a crate with an easy leap to make sure everybody saw him and heard him. He looked around with a pleased smile, enjoying the sight.

"Welcome to hell! I'm the Devil!" he said with a loud and very high pitched voice. And had it not been for the chilling tone and his threatening body language many would have laughed.

"Your Captain and her partner took away everything. My mother, my father, my home, my friends, my will to live. They put me in hell. And for that I intend to take away everything she's got. Starting with her friends and coworkers at the precinct. If she recovers from that I intend to take her work, and when her son leaves the military he's fair game. For last I will have her sanity, just like she took mine." He laughed. An evil, cold and utterly insane laugh.

Then, when his weak listeners started to look even more uncomfortable in the humid heat under the naked sun he calmly continued. "For all of you, only hell awaits. You will stay here for as long as you survive. You have absolutely NO hope to get out of here. I have contacts in your city, I have already killed off one rescue team. I will know the very minute the next one departs." His voice raised a notch to make his point. "And I promise you, any attempts to escape will be rewarded with death." His words were cold but everybody knew he told the truth.

~~~

Peter was standing not very far from the limousine, in his green beret and guards clothes he was completely anonymous behind his mirror-glass shades. He saw his friends eyes passing him without seeing behind his disguise and the AK47 ready in his hands. While listening to the speech and trying not to shoot the guy dead on the spot he came up with some kind of rough plan.

The anger and venom was obvious in the voice of the man Peter knew as Riley. Peter decided to play on Riley's will to hurt his prisoners and to do that he needed to be a really violent guard. And maybe, just maybe he could get in a better position to help his friends.

~~~

"~Pop, I need your strength~", Peter called out inward to his father the next morning when he was about to start his violent career out on the fields of marijuana. The constant stress of the situation made the call weak and barely audible.

"~Son, you got it~", Caine answered in reply, but Peter didn't hear him. He was too busy shutting his emotions down to be able to handle this. No matter that he wouldn't do it for real, he squirmed inside at the thought of this kind of violence alone. He almost changed his mind.

A few meters in front of him he had Jody, she looked exhausted and she dragged her feet as she slowly walked along the lane. He quickly made sure he was far enough from the other guards not to be heard, but very visible.

"Jody! Don't be afraid!" he said with a loud whisper as he stepped forward and put his hand on her shoulder from behind. "It is me, Peter Caine."

That gentle touch didn't matter, he almost scared her witless anyway. She didn't hear him approach, she’d thought she was out of range from that guard. She screamed out aloud in terror even before she turned to find out who it was.

"Jody, Jody, It's me, Peter!" he had to repeat before he turned her around to face him. Only then she finally realized who was standing in front of her.

"My God, its really you!" she whispered then touched his face to really feel that he was real and not a figure of her imagination. She had the most vivid dreams that night. Some of them had Peter in them, coming to the rescue. And here he was. A dream come true. "Its really you", she confirmed.

Peter smiled at her. "I'm here to help you all, but I'm afraid the way to do it isn't the easiest on any of us", his eyes looked just as sad as his voice sounded. "I'm gonna have to get violent with you and the others. I don't like that, but I see no other way of getting close to the owner of this place. He likes violence."

"Anything Peter, anything to get away from here. Start hitting!"

"I'm sorry!" Peter apologized as he raised his hand and gave her a slap with the back of his hand that made her fall down on the ground. The shock made her involuntarily scream out aloud. She never expected him to hit her that hard. "I will not hit you for real again Jody, not if I can help it, next time we fake it. You will already have the bruise to show."

Jody got up from the ground and Peter raised his arm again. This time Jody was prepared. "I'll tell the others you're here and to be ready for anything from you."

Before Peter could strike her to the ground a third time one of the other guards came along and wondered what she did.

"Merde, zee slut ees nut doeeng aas eye zell 'eer zuu" Peter cursed and left the both of them behind.

~~~

It worked out. Three days later all knew about this crazy guard beating up the prisoners for every little thing, and for his own pleasure. The other guards kept away from him, fearing his rage. Not wanting him to direct it at them. It was that morning he got called up to the hacienda for a talk with the boss.

"I like your attitude, monsieur Dubois. You are a man of my taste. I have a new job for you. I want you to be my liaison with the other guards. I need someone I can trust to run the operation for me when I'm not here."

"Eye eem 'onoured monsieur. Eye veel zoo moi beeest, monsieur" Peter bowed slightly and showed his respect. Inside he marveled how easy this had been.

~~~

"We found an intruder lurking along the fence, monsieur!" one of the gatekeepers reported to his superior and pushed the dirty and exhausted intruder down on his knees in front of him.

Kermit was too tired and out of breath from running behind the jeep all the way from the fence up to the main headquarters to even see the man in front of him. He just bowed down, no point putting up a fight now.

"Luuk ate moi, merde!" the man above him shouted and grabbed Kermit's head by the hair and violently turned his head up to face him. "Eye eem zhour noveau masteur, zhou wel dou evairysing eye zell zhou too dou, oui?"

Kermit finally focused at the guy when he didn't register what he actually said, the cold threatening voice made him feel a chill of fear. "Peter?" he dropped his jaw in surprise.

The man didn't show any sign of recognition but he let go of Kermit's hair and gave him a backhanded slap over the side of the head instead. Kermit dropped immediately.

"Geet 'eem ovair too zee ozer prizonnairs!" he ordered the guard as he went inside the headquarters again.

Kermit didn't understand a thing. Wishing he'd been in his usual good shape he obeyed willingly, didn't have the strength not to.

The closest of the three bunk houses was empty when Kermit was pushed inside it and the door locked behind him. The place was in appalling shape rusty beds, dirt floor, a roof he could see the sky through, and an odor of sweat, mold and general dampness that made him almost feel sick. But none of this made any difference to him, all he could think of was the Frenchman that looked just like Peter.

Tired he sat down on the closest bed, not intending to fall asleep, but he did.

PART 10

Very late that evening when most of the guards had gone to sleep the door of the prisoners bunkhouse opened just enough for a shadow to sneak in. Then it quickly closed again. Nobody noticed, the work on the fields was taking every ounce of energy out of the men and women inside.

Only Kermit was awake. He sat on the edge of the bunk bed he'd moved to when his friends woke him up earlier. It was dark, the stars through the holes in the roof didn't help much to chase the shadows away. Kermit didn't need to see his prison around him, he sat with his forehead resting against his hands, still contemplating the encounter with Peter that morning. From the words of his fellow prisoners he now knew that it was in fact Peter he'd met. It was just that the cold and ruthless soldier he'd met was so very far from the soft and caring touch of Peter's mind. He still didn't know if that touch had been real.

And suddenly it was once again there, in his mind. The gentle touch of his friend. And before he freaked out the touch was real, a hand on his shoulder.

"Shh, Its me Peter", a low voice whispered into his ear. "I'm here in person this time, no mindgames Kermit".

Kermit turned and could barely distinguish his friend in the dark. But he knew it was Peter, and this time he had no doubt that it was real.

"Thank god you’re okay Peter", he whispered back. "I thought you’d flipped completely when I met you this afternoon".

"I’m so sorry Kermit, if I could I would have warned you about it". The concern and regret was painfully obvious in Peter’s voice.

"It’s okay Peter, the others explained it to me when they got back from the fields. You’re doing a good job. I just never expected this kind of stunt from a Shaolin Priest."

Peter shook his head in the dark and smiled a little at himself. "Believe me Kermit, I’m surprising myself these days. Its like I've never been a priest at all some moments. The cop's instincts are taking over, guiding me. And as long as it works its okay, right?"

"So, what are you doing in here Peter?" Kermit queried. "What if they see you".

"I have a plan and I need to fill you and the others in on the details".

~~~

Five days since the rescue team left and still no word from them or Peter. Karen Simms was ready to crack again. Her control once again slipping. She even slept bad, especially in the mornings. A very persistent dream about Peter and the others disturbed her sleep. She kept seeing them working in a field in some kind of plantation in the midst of the jungle. Peter was carrying an AK47 machine gun as he watched what the others were doing. She woke up screaming as she watched Peter hit Jody over the head with the gun, sending her unconscious to the ground. This morning was different though, because when she woke up she had a silent visitor standing by her bed. Caine.

"Caine, what are you doing here?", she asked with sleep still in her voice.

"My son needed me to contact you, he can not get through to you himself. And it is very important that you know what he discovered."

Karen was now very much awake. News about Peter and the others was just what she needed to get her balance back. "What's going on down there, Caine? I haven't heard a thing since the rescue team left the airport. Are they all right?"

"Peter has been trying to contact you every morning for days Karen. But you are simply not capable to receive more than a few images."

"You mean these nightmares are Peter trying to contact me?"

"Yes Karen. What he is trying to tell you is that all of them are all right and he himself is now in a position to help them."

"Thank God for that. But the images in my dreams are telling something else Caine. Peter is hurting the others, he's one of the guards keeping them prisoners."

Caine shrugged as he used to and continued: "He is, what you would call, under cover"

Karen smiled when she remembered the stunts Peter used to pull. "He's doing one of his outrageous stunts again, isn't he?"

"aaah, yes" Caine confirmed. "He is about to make his move down there now. My son said to tell you that you have a traitor in your midst. The rescue team was met by a firing squad at touchdown on Colombian ground. Our man knew everything about it. Without this man gone Peter is worried they will not succeed."

"We have a traitor in the taskforce? Shit! I should have known." Karen cursed and quickly got out of bed to get going on her new task.

"I will make tea", Caine offered and turned to go out into the kitchen while Karen did her morning ritual in the bathroom.

When Karen entered the kitchen twenty minutes later the wonderful fragrance of fruit tea and fresh baked scones filled the air.

"My favorite breakfast, how did you know?"

He just smiled and shrugged. "Please, tell me about this man my son is fighting."

"He's the son of a crazy husband and wife I once put behind bars in a hospital for the criminally insane. He must have blamed me and my old partner Sam Moore all this time, he was only 10 when this happened twenty years ago. This was a very well planned kidnapping." Karen sighed, every time she thought about the little boy she could only feel sadness.

After a short moment of silence and a sip of tea she continued: "He was sent to an orphanage just like Peter was. But he never got adopted by any family. When they found out who he was they always backed out. He spent all his youth there, until he was eighteen. Then he just disappeared. Never to be heard of again until now when we found out he's created a drug empire down in Colombia. He's probably keeping everybody on one of his marijuana plantations down there."

"Yes, that is what Peter said".

"You said he had a plan?"

"Yes. You see, this man is not out to hurt them. He is only out for revenge on you, Karen. He wants to give you all the pain and all the grief he felt when you took away all of his friends and family. The key to getting both the traitor here and Riley himself is your son Todd. Riley told Peter and the others down there that Todd was his next target. What you need to do is leak the information that Todd is on his way home for a visit".

"He's right Caine. It's a good plan. I'll start working on it immediately"

They broke up from the table. Karen for the precinct and Caine for his sons new residence. On the way there he confirmed to Peter that his talk with Karen had been successful.

~~~

The heat of the sun was murder out among the long rows of marijuana plants. Kermit was dragging his bare, very sore feet in the dirt. Wanting to give Peter a reason to come over and lecture him he purposely lagged behind, dropping his basket in the dirt.

"What's going on Peter? Two more days and nothing!" Kermit whispered as Peter started yelling at him with that silly accent for not filling his quota and for mixing sand in the harvest.

"The captain's doing her best", Peter whispered between one French curse and the next. He leaned closer, almost lifted Kermit by the front of his scrubs and continued with a low and pretended threatening whisper; "She is leaking about Todd to the taskforce but so far no reaction. We don't know who the informant is yet or even if he is in the taskforce, if he's not it might take a bit longer".

"I'm okay, but some of the women are in bad shape Peter, we need to do this very soon or we will be in trouble for real". Kermit sounded honestly concerned as he pointed out the ones in danger with his eyes.

"There are not many more options left, I'm sure we will get word very soon Kermit. I'll let you know the other way, okay?

Kermit nodded almost unnoticeable and got ready for the Frenchman's knockout blow.

~~~

"You bastard!" Commissioner Kincaid cursed. "I've been watching your back in the city all these years and you reward it with this, dammit. I want my son back!"

"I told you to make sure your son was not on duty that specific day, didn't I?", the cold voice gloated through the phone.

"Yea, yea you did. Can I help that he's getting more dedicated than I ever expected of him!"

"But you didn't call me to whine did you? What have you got for me?"

"No new rescue teams, but Karen Simms' son Todd is coming for a visit. I just happened to overhear her on the phone an hour ago and I know just how interested you are in him".

"Keep an ear to the ground and I'll be right there"

PART 11

"I'm leaving the place in your hands, Frenchie. I'm going to get my prime target. I will be back in a day or two, tops." The thin man actually sounded passionate and emotional this time. The cold voice was filled with excitement. He paced back and forth in the spacious garden of the hacienda. He didn't even stay in the shade like he always used to.

"Oui, monsieur!" Peter readily complied and stretched up a bit like a real guard or soldier would. Making his voice cheerful and eager to please. Inside he cheered for real, finally Karen had succeeded locating the mole.

"Stay in the guest room, no need for you to return to your bunk."

"Merci beaucoup, monsieur," Peter bowed.

~~~

Peter was alone and completely undisturbed for the first time since he entered the camp. He wandered slowly from room to room in the hacienda, feeling the place out just as much as checking it out. The air of sadness was in the dark colors and the macabre paintings of ancient battlefields and it was accented by the heavy drapes covering the windows. The place desperately needed sun and light.

He saw very little sign of recent activity, only flashing glimpses from past happier days shattered the dim light. A little girl and a woman playing on the living room carpet, the same girl running down the now dark hallway with the sun playing in her golden hair. Now everything was covered with a thick layer of dust. The place had not been cleaned in a long time. He had a feeling something awful had happened in this house, perhaps that event had initiated this whole quest for revenge.

Looking for a place to relax he found the library and sat down in a comfortable leather chair. No visions or glimpses of any kind disturbed him in there. Now he could finally regain his lost center. Releasing the pressure of this situation he eased into meditation and contacted his father.

"~Pop, ya there?~"

"~Yes, my son~"

"~He took the bait, he's on the way home.~"

"~That is good news. I will tell Captain Simms immediately.~"

"~Keep your eyes open, he's flying this time. We'll move later tonight or early tomorrow morning down here. I'll let you know what happens, Pop~"

"~Be careful son~"

"~Aren't I always? Pop, don't worry.~"

For a while Peter remained still and silent. Turning his attention inward. Chasing the tension away once and for all.

PART 12

"He took the bait? Was that all he told you, Caine? Nothing about who the source is?"

"He does not know who it is." Caine looked surprised that she wasn't satisfied with his news.

"I haven't actually told anybody about Todd today. That's why I'm surprised. I only called Todd to let him know what was going on. He's coming over here to help us. When I told him about our plan I couldn't stop him from jumping on the next flight over here."

"Think back, are you certain nobody overheard you speaking to him?"

"If someone did, then they know the whole plan." Simms looked even more worried. "They will know that we are waiting for them." Simms looked and sounded like she was going to blow again. Every time they had some kind of breakthrough in this case something else went south.

Behind his mask of support and understanding Caine silently watched his friend, he was very concerned about her. He hadn't seen her loose her self control this way since Wai Chi's evil game affected her. He wished there was something he could do to ease her pain. But until they heard from Peter again all they could do was wait for Riley to arrive in the city. "I am confident Peter will succeed, Karen," he said in his most reassuring voice and moved to touch her clutched hands that she was banging onto the desk in front of her.

"Thank you, Caine" she smiled bleakly, not sure she could be that confident.

But inside Caine was also in turmoil, not since he thought Peter dead had he felt so utterly helpless. There was nothing he could do at the moment but comfort Karen and put his trust in his son. Trust that he would pull off the takeover later that night without unnecessary casualties. He was grateful that Peter finally had regained his balance. He'd grown used to the casual and frequent mind interchange with his son during the last happy years in France. This forced separation had been a painful reminder of the lost years. He was very much aware that his own balance now depended on his son's well being and balance. He could no longer shut Peter's agony and confusion out, like he had been forced to do so many times when Peter refused his help and support.

~~~

Commissioner Kincaid walked reluctantly through the squad room towards Captain Simms' office. His aching conscience pushing him forward, forcing every step towards his downfall as commissioner. The last few hours he'd come to realize he could no longer be a part of this. TJ was his son, and no matter that they didn't get along very well, he loved him. He knew he would never see him again if he let Riley have his way. That cold bastard would keep TJ forever or let him die in captivity.

He smiled when he thought of his own deception earlier in the afternoon. He had told Riley that Todd was coming to the city, but he failed to mention the takeover planned in Colombia and the fact that they knew he would be coming.

Taking a deep breath for courage Kincaid entered Simms' office without even knocking, afraid that any delay would make him chicken out. "I have a confession!" he blurted out before they had a chance to even say hello.

"Commissioner Kincaid, nice to see you too." Simms replied in a pointedly polite tone.

Caine just raised and bowed shortly towards the wildeyed and visibly distraught commissioner, and then waited patiently for the man to tell them what was causing it.

"I'm the one who told Riley about Todd's arrival in town!" he continued without even moving away from the door.

"You?" Karen shook her head in disbelief. She didn't trust the man, but this was beyond her wildest imagination.

"Yes", Kincaid looked away from her uncomfortable gaze, didn't want to face the pain he could clearly see the short moment their eyes had met. "I've been feeding him with information about you and your friends for over five years now," he continued without looking up again.

"You…you…", Karen was so mad she couldn't get the words out. She wanted to shout and scream at the bastard in front of her. Wanted to put her hands around his neck and squeeze out every little ounce of life in him. But she didn't. One look at the serene face of Kwai Chang Caine and she got her senses and control back. "You better have a damn good explanation for this Kincaid!" she then continued.

Kincaid sighed deeply and finally moved over to the other visitors chair. "Thirty years ago I was young and foolish. A close friend got me involved in a satanic sect. I was only present at two gatherings, never liked the things they did there or the things they made me and the other members do. I got out. What I didn't know until five years ago was that they documented everything very well, photos, film and audio tapes of everything. Riley got me good. I was running for commissioner for the first time when he approached me. He must have recognized me from his parents documents."

"So you did what he asked to prevent him from publishing", Karen filled in. Now understanding his motivation. Some information about a police captain's life was a cheap price to pay for the secret.

"Yes I did. I am so sorry. I never thought he would do anything like this. And when he went through with it the bastard grabbed TJ too. I am very sure he will never let him go, not him nor anyone in that camp in Colombia."

"We will get him, be sure of that! All we need to know is where and when he comes to the city?" Karen reassured him.

"He should land his private jet on that small airstrip south of the city very early tomorrow morning." Kincaid answered her without hesitation. No matter the consequences he wanted Riley behind bars.

"Lets get the taskforce on the right track again!" Karen smiled and went to tell them the good news. Kincaid would be taken care of later.

PART 13

Two rooms away from Peter's little cell of a guest room he found what he needed to get the takeover on the move, the armory. The walls were covered with rifles and machine guns, everything neatly organized. The boxes standing along the walls were filled with grenades and mines. This was a gold mine for terrorists.

He found a weapon in his own taste casually thrown on a table in the middle of the room, an injection gun. And right there was also a small box half filled with tiny glass bottles. That must have been what the prisoners had been drugged with. Peter put the bottles in his pockets and stuck the gun in the back of his belt.

"This will save a lot of lives, I do hope Kermit doesn't mind I step away from our plan a bit. Time to go hunting", he mused to himself.

Humming he left the gloomy rooms of the hacienda to get started on his camp takeover. It was supper time for the prisoners and in a short hour it would be dark.

Walking among the prisoners he got the word out that it was on for the night. This would be their last night in the grasp of the maniac. But he didn't let on that the plans were changed and that the next time they saw him it would truly be over.

Three in the morning the poker game in the bunk house finally broke up and Peter said goodnight to the other guards. But he never went far on the narrow path to the hacienda, he stopped by the nearest guard, said hello, did some small talk, and then gave him a shot with the gun. He went down silently, Peter grabbed him and eased him down on the ground.

With a relaxed stroll he approached the two guards outside the closest of the two prison barracks. This would be a little more tricky. Pretending he was slightly drunk he placed himself between them and hugged them. They squirmed uncomfortably when he squeezed them together with his arms. While laughing and releasing them he pulled the gun out from its hiding place in the back of his uniform pants. They were embarrassed but off guard and in an instant Peter had injected a the left guard in the back of the neck and the other guard just below his left ear. None of them made a sound louder than the thumps of their bodies hitting the ground.

Peter smiled and continued towards the next barrack and the next two guards. Thinking he could repeat his performance he strolled around the corner. But this time he saw only one guard outside the door. The other one must be in the bushes taking a leak or something. Peter could not see or hear him. Without hesitation he walked up close to the single guard and hugged him with his right arm, pressing the injection gun against the side of the guards neck with the other. In seconds it was over and Peter leaned the guard comfortably against the wall.

In that very moment the other in the guard team showed up. Wondering what was going on with his partner he raised his weapon and aimed it towards the unknown shadow in front of him.

"Hey, dou nuut shuut, c'est moi, Dubois", Peter joked and the guard relaxed for just an instant. Enough for Peter to kick the AK47 out of the hands of the guard and follow up with a single blow to the jaw of the man, sending him unconscious to the ground. Peter didn't take any chances, he injected a dose of the drug and left him to find the rest of the guards on duty.

An hour later and one bottle emptied he returned to the guards bunkhouse. Inside he heard a faint snoring sound. With a dangerous smile on his face he entered. This was almost too easy. He went from bed to bed, not one of them giving him trouble.

~~~

Five in the morning and the sun would soon rise above the horizon and the working day of the prisoners would begin. Kermit had been awake most of the night, trying to figure out what Peter was up to. This was the night. This was the night they were going to be free. It had been a long time since he’d longed for a battle. But this one he would truly enjoy. If only Peter would get the damn thing started.

Then suddenly the door to the barrack was flung open. In came Peter, laughing and shouting. "Its over, you're free!"

The few still awake, waiting for his call for assistance turned their heads in surprise. "Over?" came a voice.

Peter was all laughs and excitement. "Yes my dear friends, its over! Every single guard is taken care of, my treat!"

Kermit felt almost cheated out of his revenge when he heard Peter's words. Not wanting to believe Peter had killed off all the guards by himself he could but call out in disbelief "You did what?"

Peter saw the facial expressions of the people around him and realized his words had been misinterpreted big time. The faces around him showed shock and concern. They were all aware of the pressure he'd been under the last few days. "No, no, no, you got it all wrong!" he managed to say before he really started laughing.

Shaking his head in disbelief he drew the gun again, only to have the people next to him almost throw themselves on the floor. Then, when they registered what kind of gun it was they too started laughing.

"I should have known you wouldn't actually risk hurting anyone, Peter!" Kermit apologized and hugged his friend. "Our very own Shaolin Priest came up with the perfect plan," he smiled.

"Oh Yeah!" Peter agreed "I would have gone through with the plan if I had to, but this was too easy to be passed on."

PART 14

Karen Simms was pacing the floor of the air traffic control tower at the small airport. There wasn't much traffic this night but she stayed back to let the two air traffic controllers do their job. They already knew what the police were looking for and they kept their eyes open for that one specific private plane.

Karen was too nervous to sit down and relax. He could be there any minute now, or an hour away. The weather and winds were always unpredictable and it was a long way to travel from South America to this city.

"We got them on the radar now, Captain Simms, they are entering our airspace and are requesting landing permission."

"Finally!" Karen cheered "How long before they get here?"

"About twenty minutes," he estimated and went back on the radio to reply to the call from the captain on the incoming flight.

Karen only heard the beginning of that conversation, she was already running down the stairs to get the welcoming committee ready.

~~~

Onboard the plane Riley started to get excited. He had hardly even noticed the bad weather on the way, too preoccupied with plotting the kidnapping of Todd Simms. This time he'd do it simple, just grab him, drug him and go. He'd be out of the country with the kid before Karen Simms even knew he was missing. This would be the final blow, he was absolutely sure of it. The last reports on her psychic condition had been very promising. Very promising indeed.

The balance he'd started to rock when he had made sure she'd been stood up and humiliated in Atlanta was now gone. He laughed when he remembered his contact telling him she had punched a hole in a drawer with her shoe. Cool and collected Karen Simms, actually showing her emotions like that made him laugh with pleasure. He couldn't wait to see what the kidnapping of her son would do. That just had to push her over the edge completely.

Giggling he fastened the seatbelt and awaited the soft thud of the landing. "Nothing will keep you out of a padded room once my doctors get a hold of you Karen Simms!" he spoke out aloud with a satisfied grin, his mood getting even brighter by the minute. "Soon, very soon it will be over and I will have my revenge!"

~~~

When Riley stepped out of the plane in the rented private hangar at the very end of the runway the authorities were already waiting to check his passport. Riley obediently handed over his passport to be checked, not expecting any trouble. He'd been entering the country this way plenty of times and he even recognized the customs officers from earlier visits.

"What are you trying to pull?" one of them asked suspiciously, looking from the passport to Riley's face several times. "This can't be your passport!" He smacked the passport shut and ordered the other officer to cuff Riley.

"What?" was all Riley could say at first. He was taken by complete surprise.

"Trying to get into the country with a fake passport is a serious offense", the mean looking customs officer replied as the other moved closer to put the handcuffs on Riley.

"That's my passport, and it's real as hell!" he started to get mad. Who were these low life, public servants, to question his identity? He backed off towards the plane when he realized the officers were not kidding him. They were really going to arrest him.

Before they had a chance to catch him he was inside again, running for the secret compartment behind the cockpit. He needed a gun. If he could take these guys out he could still carry out his plans. Reaching behind the stewardess chair he found one of the machine guns his guards loved to use in the fields. Without hesitation he leaped back to the opening, gun ready to be fired.

But the hangar was empty, the security officers were gone, or at least out of sight. He stepped aside to get out of sight himself while he tried to spot them through the airplane windows. "Shit, where the hell are they?" he swore aloud to himself.

"What's going on, sir?" the pilot asked as he opened the cockpit door to find out why his boss came back inside again.

"They didn't accept my passport, tried to arrest me for illegally entering the country!" Riley muttered, not believing this was actually happening to him. "Get back in the cockpit, get the plane ready for takeoff again."

"But, sir. We don't have enough fuel to last us an hour, this trip took a lot longer than expected."

"No arguments, dammit! Its our lives that's at stake here!"

The pilot shook his head but obediently went back into the cockpit to do as he was told.

Five minutes, ten minutes, passed and still not a sign of activity from outside. Riley knew that he would have to make his move very soon or the whole place would be crawling with cops. Gun ready he once again approached the entrance. But this time he wasn't met by silence. He registered a loud bang just as he was thrown off balance by a hard push in the left shoulder, he stumbled back and fell hard on his back.

It must have been only seconds but it felt like hours before he could get his lost breath back. He fought desperately to get some air down through the sharp pain in his shoulder and chest. He succeeded only to notice running steps coming towards him. With almost unreal willpower he managed to first sit up and then struggle to his knees and get the rifle still clasped in his right hand ready to face the intruders.

The effort of holding the gun up was too much, he didn't have the strength to wait till they were in sight. He emptied the gun out through the door before they got close enough to get hit, the bullets flying high over the heads of the closing policemen. But they stopped their approach long enough for Riley to get back on his feet and push the button that closed the door automatically.

"Get us outta here! NOW!" he shouted to his pilot.

Seconds later the plane started moving to drive out of the large hangar again. But before they had even got close to the opening, someone once again opened fire on the plane. This time hitting the tires and the landing gear, one by one. Takeoff and further movement towards the opening in the hangar immediately made impossible.

"NO, they're not going to get me! I'd rather die!" Riley cursed when he realized he was trapped. "You'll never get me or my hostages, not ever!" He started laughing, forgetting the pain as he found his cell phone to make sure his death would be followed by hundreds of others down in the Colombian jungle.

"Oui, c'est Dubois!" a cheery voice answered on the other end.

"It's me, Riley. I need you to kill off the hostages Dubois!" he had to pause to get the strength to go on, the pain disintegrated by the thought of revenge, but the heavy blood loss rapidly made him dizzy and powerless. "I don't need them anymore. Do it any way you like, have some fun!"

His desperate orders only resulted in a triumphant laugh from Dubois.

"What's so fuckin' funny?!" he barked back with a last burst of will power.

"You lost, Riley. I'm not your puppet, never was." The accent of Dubois gone, but the voice was the same. "I'm Peter Caine, the one friend of Karen Simms' you missed. No more hostages down here Riley, you lost!"

Only then Riley finally realized he wasn't going to get his revenge after all. All the hostages free and he himself was surrounded by cops. Struggling onto his feet again he stumbled towards the cockpit to make sure they at least didn't get him.

~~~

Peter had a broad smile all over his face when he disconnected the phone. "I think we're in the clear. That was Riley, and he wasn't himself, he sounded very desperate." They were raiding the kitchen for something other than the oatmeal for a breakfast celebration.

"Get Captain Simms on the phone and tell her we succeeded! She's probably still worried. No matter that your father probably told her we're fine, she would want to hear this from us." Skalany stated when he put the receiver down.

Peter nodded in agreement, he knew not only Simms but his own father would be relieved to hear they were successful. "Sure, I was just about to do that."

Peter dialed, and was surprised he got the number right the first time around. International calls from in the middle of the jungle he didn't quite trust. "Simms, guess who?" he joked when he got the Captain on the line.

"Peter? You succeeded?"

"Oh Yeah, as a friend of ours would say!" he laughed back. "Come and get us, we're eager to get home now that we fixed us this killer tan."

"Okay, consider it taken care of. But Peter, don't you want to know what happened to Riley?"

"Riley? He's gone Isn't he? That's good enough for me!"

Simms laughed on her end of the line. "Yeah, he's gone all right. He just blew himself and his plane up the very minute before you called. How did you know?…Nevermind." she knew better than to ask her Shaolin friend that question.

"We'll be awaiting transport, call ya later Captain, its breakfast time." Peter ended the conversation and helped the others carry the groceries down to the field kitchen and the rest of the cheerful gang.

~~~

"Peter, you're insane. You can't stay down here all by yourself!" Jody pleaded, fiercely hugging her friend, not wanting to let go.

"I hate flying Jody, and I promised myself on the way down here that If I got down on the ground alive I wasn't gonna set my foot on a plane ever again. I intend to keep that promise." He returned the hug but pulled away when she tried to drag him onboard the cargo plane waiting.

"But Peter, its too far…"

Peter just shrugged, in that moment a perfect copy of his father. "I'll be home before you know it, don't worry."

"Leave him be, Jody. He's made his mind up about this. Nothing we can do." Kermit added and pried her away from Peter's arm.

And they were right. He'd made up his mind. He waved as the ramp closed and then he turned to move the jeep and start his own journey back.

~~~

"I can't even begin to describe how happy and relieved I am that you're all safely back here, " Karen greeted her friends and officers when they stepped off the airplane not 100 meters from the burnt out shell of Riley's private plane.

"It's good to be back, Captain." TJ smiled at her.

"What happened over there?" Kermit asked as soon as he had fought off an impulse to hug his Captain in public. That kind of behavior was not appropriate. And questions about a blown out, still smoking airplane was a very much safer subject.

"Riley." She answered as she did what he had not. Not caring the least about appearances at the moment she hugged him fiercely. Needed to feel he was real and not an illusion created by her stressed out brain. "He refused to be caught. He blew himself up before we could get to him."

"Good riddance, that psycho didn't deserve to live!" Jody cursed when she heard the explanation from Simms.

"Where's Peter?" Karen asked when everybody had disembarked the plane and he was still nowhere to be seen. "Isn't he with you?"

Kermit laughed. "We couldn't get him on that plane. And with the kind of ride we just had, I don't blame him. He'll be back in his own time."

Karen shook her head in disbelief. "You can't be serious. You actually LEFT him down there?"

"Oh Yeah, he wouldn't have it any other way."

The End