Characters: Peter Caine. Paul Blaisdale. Mary Margaret Skalany. Kwai Chang Caine.
New Characters: Assorted.
Villains: Assorted.
Synopsis: There is a new drug on the streets and Peter and Skalany are invited to join a task force to put an end to its distribution.
Rating: PG-13 for adult situations and implied violence.
Author: WriterJC (shadowmom@writeme.com)
Can be found at: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Cavern/1841/iadp.html within the next few days.
Will likely be posted also at fanfiction.net
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, but belong to copyright holders of the television show Kung Fu: The Legend Continues. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: This is my first KFTLC fanfic and comments and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.
In A Dark Place
By WriterJC
"Jimmy! Stop it! You're hurting me!"
The woman's panicked cries drifted on the night air and slammed into Peter Caine like a bullet. All of his senses immediately flew on alert status, and instead of climbing into the open door of his car, he turned sharply in the direction of the sound.
The alley was dark, and the woman sounded like she knew her attacker. Domestic violence was always a dangerous situation to walk into. But then, Jimmy could be her pimp. He thought of calling for backup.
"Jimmy!" the shriek came again followed by the sound of flesh against flesh--the sound of someone being slapped. Hard. A body fell against something and enraged weeping erupted along with what sounded like a struggle. An unfair match. One the woman was losing from the sounds of things.
Peter was halfway down the darkened alley before he had consciously come to the decision that there was no time to make the call. Quickly loosening his light jacket so that his gun would be more easily accessible, he stepped around the garbage dumpster that separated him from the struggling pair.
It enraged him to see the taller and stronger male preying on the weakness of the female. It was his job to put a stop to this type of thing. But the woman, following the pattern, would probably be with the guy again by the end of the week.
Peter strode furiously toward the pair, both oblivious to his presence, and grabbed the man by the back of the neck. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to pick on someone your own size?" he demanded, swinging him around. He wasn't altogether surprised by the glazed, not-quite-there, look in the boy's eyes. Drugs or alcohol was usually involved.
Peter was vaguely aware of the woman, no, girl, stumbling to her feet. She didn't look much older than 15 or 16. And the boy was probably the same age. He felt sick. These were just kids, playing at very grown up games. "And shouldn't the both of you be at home in bed? Separate beds?"
The girl stood against the wall trembling, and the fight seemed to have gone out of the boy. In fact, he didn't look too good at all. He began to sway, and then suddenly he pitched forward, directly into Peter's arms.
Using the boy's momentum, Peter wrapped his arms about his knees and slung him over his shoulder. The screaming girl ran toward him, pounding against his shoulder and demanded to know what he was doing.
"I'm a cop," Peter reassured her as he struggled to get his badge out one-handedly. The boy was no small weight and the girls pummeling him wasn't helping. "This boy needs help! And unless you have a better idea, I'm trying to get him to the hospital."
The girl relented slightly, and followed along at his side as he hurried out of the alley and toward his car. The driver's side door was still partly opened, which saved him from having to fish his keys out of his pockets. He would count his blessing tomorrow that the vehicle was actually still there; for the moment, he had other concerns.
"What's your name?" he asked the girl as he used a foot to kick the driver's seat forward.
"Nicky," the girl's voice came to him as he slid the boy as carefully as he could into the small back seat. Nicky climbed in after him. She immediately cradled the young man's head in her arms. Tears streamed along cheeks that were already darkening with bruises from the boy's rough treatment.
Peter shook his head and climbed into the driver's seat. "Does Jimmy usually beat the crap out of you or is this a one time thing?" he asked, as the engine roared to life and he pulled away from the curb. The drive to the hospital would take a few minutes. He might as well get as much preliminary information as he could. Maybe even convince the girl to reconsider her current course in life.
"It wasn't like that with Jimmy," she jumped to the boy's defense. "It was the--" At Peter's sound of disbelief, she bristled. "I don't have to tell you anything."
"Yeah, you're right." Peter agreed, tiredly. "But then, I'm just the guy who probably just saved your life. Never mind the fact that I'm letting both you and your boyfriend get alley grime and blood on my upholstery. Nope, you don't owe me a thing."
The girl shot him a hard look from the rear view mirror.
"Fine," Peter sighed. "I don't suppose you'll be pressing charges, either." It wasn't exactly a question, and the girl's only reply was more silence.
"Right. Then let me offer you a piece of advice." Peter intentionally looked over his shoulder, ensuring that the girl was paying attention. At the lost look in her eyes, his voice softened. "Go to Chinatown. Ask for Caine."
Nicky's gaze changed to one of confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, but a movement in her arms halted any words she might have uttered.
Jimmy's body had begun to convulse.
Peter frantically shifted gears and sped through the red light before them. There was no more time for talking.
Part Two
Peter took a sip of cold coffee and slammed the file folder that he had been studying shut. There was nothing there that could help him. Three hours of research and he had nothing that could tell him what had happened to James Patrick Stevens--dead at age sixteen. Two weeks before his seventeenth birthday. There was nothing that could soften the blow of the young man dying in the back seat of his car, or the look on Nicky's face when the doctor had told them that there had been nothing that they could do. He had been too numb to even stop her when she ran from the ER, her own physical wounds untreated.
He dropped his face into his hands and tried desperately to center himself, to wipe away the grief and fatigue that seemed to have pressed its way into his soul. Another life stamped out, another piece of his soul cut away.
The soft click of Skalany's shoes interrupted his thoughts. He sat up and offered an anemic smile of greeting.
"You been here all night?" she gave him a concerned once-over as she passed him a document.
Peter didn't reply, simply took the papers out of her hand and began to study them. It was the preliminary report on the Stevens kid. As suspected, the kid had died of a drug overdose.
"I heard about what happened," Skalany was saying. "I'm sorry."
Peter blew out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, me too. But that's life and death in the big city." When Skalany didn't respond to his weak attempt, he looked back down. "There was a girlfriend. She couldn't have been more than fifteen. He died in her arms."
Mary Margaret reached a hand toward his shoulder. "Partner. . ."
Whatever Mary Margaret was going to say was interrupted by the sound of Paul Blaisdale's voice from the opposite side of the room. Both Peter and Skalany turned to see the older man standing in his office doorway. He waved them both toward in his direction.
Paul's eyes drifted over Peter's attire with a raised brow, but he didn't comment. He didn't have to say that if Peter wanted to talk he could; he conveyed that with a look as well.
Peter nodded slightly to the silent communication and settled into one of the seats in front of Paul's desk. Skalany settled in beside him.
"Word has it that there's a new drug on the streets, "Paul began. "Bad news in all capital letters. Traces of this drug were found in the Stevens kid."
"They sure found out quick," Peter spoke up. "The next of kin has barely been notified. And how come we're just hearing about it? If it's bad news, it eventually finds its way to Chinatown."
"It's been kept pretty quiet. There's talk of some sort of an inside link, "Blaisdale shrugged. "A special task force has been formed, headed up by a. . . Collins--"
"Jake Collins?" Skalany interrupted.
"You know him?" Blaisdale looked up at her.
"Yeah. I worked with him for a little while, not too long after I got out of the academy. He's not the kind of guy you want to make waves with."
"Well, you're going to be working with him again. The two of you just got temporarily assigned to the task force. You're going to meeting with Collins and the rest of the team this afternoon. Asking that you not make waves is probably a waste of breath, so I'm simply going to ask that you keep them to a minimum." He looked between his two detectives. "Any questions?"
Following negative replies, he gestured his head toward the door and returned his attention to the papers on his desk.
"Peter," he called the young detective back.
Peter turned slightly, meeting the older man's gaze.
"Go home. Take a shower. Wash the city off. Might make you feel a little better."
Peter nodded, and turned to walk away. If only he could wash the city from his soul.
Two hours later found Peter exiting his apartment into the late morning air. There was still an hour before he was due to meet Skalany, so he decided to go by his father's to see if the girl, Nicky, had taken his advice.
When he entered the brownstone, he found the lower level deserted. "Pop." He called out to his father, walking around the room, glancing minutely at the objects with which his father had chosen to decorate. He came to a stop before the painting that his father had said held harmony.
All he could see was swirls. The harmony had left his life long before, on the day that the temple had burned. He wondered if he would ever find it again. But then, didn't fire completely destroy the things that it touched?
Turning his mind back to the job ahead, he walked out of the building. It was getting late and he didn't have time to wait around for his father. There would be hell to pay if he was late meeting Skalany. She had only told him about a hundred times that Collins hated tardiness.
As he steered along the streets of Chinatown, an unusually large crowd along a side street caught his attention. He spun the car around and headed into the melee. He slowed, noticing that several in the crowd were pointing upward. His gaze followed.
There atop the building was Nicky, clinging to a light pole that protruded from the ledge. Standing nearby was Kwai Chang Caine.
Part Three
"You do not really wish to do this," Caine told the young girl standing along the building's ledge. Wave upon wave of grief and misery emanated from her, washing over his senses, nearly masking the approach of his son. He caught the young man's image in his peripheral vision as he pushed his way through the crowd and entered the building.
"Yeah, what do you know?" the young woman shot back at him, clinging more tightly onto the pole as she rearranged her feet on the thin ledge. If she moved a few more inches, she would loose her balance and her left foot would be dangling over open air. Caine did not think that the decorative pole would hold the girl's weight.
"I know that you do not really wish to do this," he responded to her question. "Why don't you allow me to help you down." He took a half step closer to her.
"Stay back!" The girl shrieked, moving her foot another inch. The distance toward open air was closer .Caine took a step back and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"I will stay back," he said. "And you must tell me why you are standing here on this ledge."
"Because I wish to jump," she shot back, imitating his inflection.
"You do not," Caine replied. "Otherwise you would have already leapt to your death."
"Who are you anyway?" the girl demanded. "You make a terrible negotiator."
Caine shrugged, just as Peter arrived on the roof. "I am Caine," he replied simply.
The girl's mouth opened slightly, as if in confusion and then she settled her gaze on Peter. "You're the one," she murmured softly, looking back toward Caine.
"Are you a cop?"
"No," Caine shook his head. "I am a priest."
The girl looked again toward Peter, this time incredulously. "Well, I don't have anything to confess!" she yelled accusingly. "I just want to get out of here, out of this life."
"Why would you wish to leave such a gift so soon?" Caine asked. "There is so much more to be learned."
The girl didn't seem to know whether to listen to him, or shoot daggers with her eyes toward Peter.
"The only thing I've learned is that it isn't fair and that it hurts to be here. You live only to lose the ones you care about. And then," the girl's voice broke. "You die. Alone." She inched the final crucial inch further away, her voice hardening. "I'm just trying to speed up the process!"
"Nicky, don't." Peter spoke, finally. Caine turned, unsurprised that his son knew the young woman. "I know how you feel. And killing yourself is not the answer. It's not worth it. Dying gets you nowhere."
"You can't know how I feel!" Nicky screamed. "How can you know how I feel?"
Peter brushed a hand through his hair, anguish obvious in his eyes. Caine did not need to be intune with his son to know that the girl's life meant much to him.
"But I do," Peter insisted. "When I was a little younger than you, I lost everything I knew. My home, my friends. . . my father," he threw a flitting glance Caine's way. "I felt like there was nothing left to live for. I wanted to die. I th-thought about dying. . ."
Caine suppressed a reaction to the sharp pain that pierced him at his son's confession.
"You're not making this up, are you?" Nicky asked, but Caine knew that that she saw the truth in Peter's eyes. The same truth that he knew was reflected in his own.
"I wouldn't lie about something like that," Peter told her. "And I wouldn't make it up. Come on down, Nicky. Help me find the people who did this to Jimmy. Help me keep this from happening to someone else."
Nicky took a deep breath and looked consideringly between the two of them.
"Take my hand, Nicky," Peter approached her, his hand outstretched. "Help me."
Nicky closed her eyes and answered. "Okay," she said, and reopened her eyes. Then, she turned and looked down at the crowd below. Caine felt the wave of vertigo that swept her as her foot stepped on to empty air. She screamed.
Part Four
Peter barely saw his father move. He saw only Nicky's hands flutter from around the pole and her body arch backward over the expanse of empty space. And then Kwai Chang Caine was they're pulling the girl back in toward the roof. She landed on her feet and then collapsed into Peter's arms.
Faint applause echoed up from the street, but Peter could barely hear it for the pounding of his own heart or Nicky's ragged breathing. He closed his eyes, allowing the adrenaline to drain from his system washing with it the pain of his own recently exposed wounds.
When he opened his eyes, he looked directly into his father's steady gaze. "That was some move, Pop," he breathed, pushing Nicky into a standing position.
His father simply shrugged and didn't even berate him for calling him 'Pop'.
He looked down at Nicky who had taken a quick step away from him. His smile died on his lips as her confusion.
"I thought you said. . ."
Realization dawned. He grinned at her. "It's a very long story. But we found each other again." He shared a look of affection with his father.
"Perhaps he will share the story with you someday," Caine spoke up, giving Peter a meaningful look.
"He had better." The beginnings of a smile appeared on Nicky's face.
Peter returned her smile, feeling lighter than he had all day. "So how about it? You help me find these guys?"
Nicky nodded. "I'll help you."
"Good," Peter touched her shoulder, before glancing at his watch. "You got a place to stay?"
Nicky looked uncomfortable.
Peter shot a look toward his father. "Pop?"
"I will see what I can do," Caine replied with a smile and bowed slightly. Turning toward Nicky he gestured toward the steps. "Come with me. I will make tea."
Peter grinned and followed the two out of the building. Nicky would be in safe keeping until he could come back for her. But in the meantime, Skalany was going to have his head. At least he had a good excuse for being late this time.
Fifteen minutes after the appointed meeting time, Peter and Skalany slipped into the briefing room of the 23rd precinct. The meeting of the new task force was already in session.
"I see that our two newest members have decided to join us," a burly, dark-haired man spoke from the front of the room. His eyes never left the two detectives as they found seats. Mary Margaret looked as if she wanted sink through the floor. Peter didn't exactly disagree with her. Jake Collins, like Paul Blaisdale was a force to be reckoned with.
"I'm sorry, it's my fault," Peter spoke up, hoping to at least spare Skalany the wrath of the man she had formerly known. At the slow boil he saw on Collins' face, he didn't think that the apology was helping the situation.
"I suppose you have an excuse then, Detective Caine?" Collins wanted to know. He planted two meaty fists on the table and waited.
"Uh, yeah. Actually, I do," Peter told him. "I found a new lead."
"And this new lead made you late because. . .?" Collins asked.
Peter looked briefly toward Skalany and shrugged. So much for not making waves. "The girlfriend of the kid who died this morning. I found her."
Collins was suddenly a lot more interested, as were the rest of the task force members.
"Where is she?" A tall sandy haired man asked from the opposite end of the room.
"She's safe," Peter responded glancing briefly in the man's direction.
"From that cryptic remark, I'll take it that you mean she isn't in protective custody," Collins said, settling back against the edge of his desk and crossing his arms.
Peter's eyes widened slightly. He wasn't normally the cryptic one. "She safe," was his response to Collins.
"We're all police officers here, Detective Caine," Collins met his gaze levelly. "If we're going to work together as a team, I'll need to know that you're putting forth every effort to strive toward the same goals as the rest of us. If I feel any different, I'll have you tossed off this team so fast you'll get road rash."
"Jake," Skalany spoke up, with a placating gesture. "Peter's trustworthy. I know where the girl is, and I guarantee that she's safe."
Collins seemed to consider Skalany's words for a moment, before nodding. "If anything happens to that witness Caine, I'll be holding you personally responsible."
Peter met the man's eyes steadily.
"I'll want her in for questioning this afternoon."
"Tomorrow morning would be a better time," Peter told him, wondering if he was pushing his luck. "She's had a tough time of it."
"Ten o'clock." Collins agreed to Peter's surprise, then nodded again before standing to face the group.
"Since we're all here now, I'd like to introduce you to the rest of the task force." He pointed first to the sandy haired man who had spoke earlier. "This is Gary Gerard. He and I are from the 23rd. To his right are Tim Michaelson and Mack Reardon. They are partners from the 65th. Next are Mark Simmons and Janet Macmillan from the 44th. Everyone this is Peter Caine and Mary Margaret Skalany from the 101st."
All of the detectives in the group nodded greetings and then Collins began to share all of the information that the city had gathered on the new drug whose street name was DDT. It was highly addictive and produced a wicked high that had its victims wanting more within 24 hours. Withdrawal produced violent rages, tremors and even death if the victim had reached a fatal level of addiction and could not attain another hit.
The only way to break a victim of the stuff was to carefully bring them down slowly with gradually less and less of the violent chemical. Even then, the person would have to be restrained to prevent self-mutilation and other side effects of the withdrawal process.
Bad news in all capital letters was right.
After the meeting, Skalany and Peter were released to follow up a few leads of their own. Their first stop was at the home of Jimmy Stevens, Nicky's boyfriend. A dark-haired young man, bearing a passing resemblance to Jimmy opened the door. His eyes were red-rimmed and hostile.
"Shawn Stevens?" Peter questioned.
At the young man's nod Peter quickly introduced he and Skalany and apologized for the intrusion. "We know that this is difficult for you, but we would like to ask you a few questions about the people that Jimmy may have hung out with."
The young man's eyes filled and he turned away. "Do we have to do this now?" he wanted to know.
Peter's heart ached for the young man's pain. The file had said that the boy's parents had died a year prior and Shawn had accepted custody of his younger brother. Despite the tragedy that had stuck, the questions were necessary.
"The sooner we move," Peter told him. "The better the chance that we will catch the people who did this."
"I don't know who his friends were," Shawn said, not turning.
"Did you know Nicky?" Peter asked.
Shawn paused for a moment. "Yeah. I know Nicky. She was always here. Or she slept here all the time. I figured it was safer than her being out on the street. When her mother died, she ran away from an abusive stepfather."
Peter stilled his features against that bit of Nicky's personal history. He would have to see what he could do about that later.
"Do you know where Jimmy might have gotten drugs?" he asked, watching the young man carefully.
"I told you I don't know his friends!" Shawn Stevens exploded. "How can you be so insensitive at a time like this? There is nothing else that I can tell you. Goodbye."
Peter took a deep breath and then shared a look with Skalany. "Thank you, Mr. Stevens. We'll see ourselves out," he said.
"Poor kid," Skalany said as they reached the car. Peter looked up at the window to the Stevens apartment and saw the curtain flutter.
"He was hiding something," he said and climbed into the driver's seat.
"Oh right," Skalany shot him a disbelieving look. "That kid was all torn up about his brother. What makes you think he was hiding anything besides his grief? And that not very well."
"I'm not denying his grief Skalany. But he was hiding something. He was trying too hard."
"Come again?"
"It's something my father once said," Peter told her. "The one seeking to deceive pushes firmly to reinforce the deception. The one who is truthful has no need to push."
"My, my," Skalany studied him with a wicked grin. "You almost sounded like your father for a moment there."
Peter fought the warmth that flooded his cheeks. "He must be rubbing off on me. Speaking of which. I think its time we asked Nicky a few questions about Jimmy Stevens."
"Hey, I thought you wanted to hold off till morning," Skalany protested. "I'm already half in trouble with Collins because of you."
"No guts no glory," Peter shot back. Then relenting, "I want to hold off HIS questioning till morning. She's shaken up enough. And no offense, but Collins is a little scary. That combined with all those cops around her, she's probably going to feel like a suspect. I just want to talk to her first, you know, prepare her."
"Whatever, Peter." Skalany nodded, going along.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
"What have you got on Peter Caine?" A male voice spoke into a payphone. A gold ring with a brilliant blue stone on his pinky glinted in the setting sun.
"Oh really?"
"Good. I want you to take care of it personally. Do it now. I don't want any possible loose ends. Remember, I'm always watching."
Part Five
"Did you enjoy your meal?" Caine asked the young woman sitting across from him. Her mind was thinking of other things, perhaps of the young man Jimmy to whom she had become attached.
"Yeah," she gave him a grudging nod. "Even if it was all vegetables and rice."
Caine smiled. "You sound like Peter, except he would not say that it was good."
Nicky smiled at him. "You too are very different," she observed. "You're so calm, composed. I think Peter is more like me, all over the place."
Caine looked down briefly. It pained him that he did not have a greater influence over his son's growing years. But still, Peter was Peter. He could not be anyone else. He returned his gaze to the girl when she continued speaking.
"But, there is something. . ." She eyed him as if she were searching for the words. "There's a conviction that I think you both share," she continued to look at him, as if that wasn't exactly what she meant to say. "And you both help people," she added and then smiled.
Caine bowed, inwardly pleased that she recognized the one thing that he held deep in his heart. Despite all outward appearances, he and his son were not so very different.
He froze as he sensed a disharmony. He gestured Nicky behind one of the building's supports and extinguished the lights with a wave of his hand. "Remain here," he told her firmly before stepping with sure steps into the darkness.
A shadowed form crept up the steps, a weapon outstretched before him. Caine landed a kick to his chest, sending him sprawling to the landing below. Another man sprung from behind him, attempting to pummel him with his weapon. Caine extended his leg backward, knocking the main against the wall. The man got up and tried again. Caine moved toward him in one fluid motion and gasped his shoulder, putting the man down on the ground, unconscious.
Another, Caine knew, existed in the darkness. No, two others. And Peter approached. With the flat of his hand, he caught the third man in the chest. He heard Nicky scream moments after he spun toward the other side of the room.
Peter appeared in the doorway, and the man who had stood there turned and retreated. Caine did not catch many of his features in the darkness, but the moonlight glinting through a window shone across the blue and gold of the pinky ring.
Peter and Mary Margaret stormed into the room with their weapons drawn.
"What happened here, Pop?" Peter demanded to know.
"Men came," Caine answered. "They were unsuccessful."
Nicky appeared behind him, looking very shaken up as she stepped around one of the fallen intruders.
"There is another upstairs," Caine said.
Peter shook his head and clapped Caine on the shoulder. "You never fail to amaze me, Pop." He said. Then, returning his gun to his holster, he reached for a pair of handcuffs and moved toward the first man. "You want to call this in, Skalany?" he asked Mary Margaret as he neatly caught the pair of handcuffs that she threw his way.
"Sure Sport," she winked at Caine and turned to leave the building. Caine smiled as he watched her go. He liked to watch the way Mary Margaret walked.
"Pop!" Peter was calling from upstairs. "You got something I can tie this guy up with?"
Caine pretended to bristle as he gestured that Nicky proceed him. "Do not call me Pop!" He felt as well as heard Peter's chuckle.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Peter was not surprised to see that Collins was waiting for them at the precinct when they arrived. The man's eyes widened as they locked on the three criminals. "Scum sinks straight to the bottom, I see." He said to the three.
"You know these guys?" Peter asked, looking toward the men.
"Yeah, I busted them about six months ago. Looks like we get to dance again?" he sneered in the direction of the men. None seemed happy to see him. "I didn't even know you fellows knew each other."
Peter frowned at that. Crooks tended to stick to their own turf. What would a couple thugs from the 23rd's stomping ground be doing trying to break into a kwoon in Chinatown? Collins seemed to notice his unease.
"This the girl you were talking about?" Collins nodded toward Nicky who looked as if she would never leave Peter's father's side.
"Yeah," Peter nodded absently, trying to grasp the thought that was flickering through his mind. There was something here that he was missing.
"Well, I'll still expect her at the 23rd tomorrow morning at ten. I've got a few things I want to check on. Oh, and Caine," the big man pointed a meaty finger in Peter's direction. "Don't be late."
"Right." Peter grinned in the man's direction, thinking very quickly. As soon as the man left the squad room, Peter turned toward Skalany. "Hey, can you sign these guys in and take care of Nicky for the night?"
"What?" Skalany demanded. "Why me? And what kind of fun are you going to be off having?"
"No fun, Skalany. I'm just following up on a hunch. Besides, I think Nicky needs a woman's touch right now."
Skalany shot him a poisonous look, but relented. "I'll take her home, but you call me and let me know that everything is okay or I'm going to come looking for you. And when I find you, you'll wish I never did."
"I understand," Peter grinned and made ready to leave.
Somehow his father managed to get between him and the stairs that led out of the squad room. "Where are you going, my son?"
"Just a hunch, Pop," Peter said quickly. Couldn't the man SENSE that he was in a hurry?
"Beware that the appearance of the truth does not lead to the deception. A true seeker must often dig deeper to find that which is real. Sometimes the truth can only be found in a very dark and dangerous place. But a pain shared can lead to hope even in the darkest times."
"Dark and dangerous is part of my job description and digging is what I'm doing." Peter said, growing exasperated. "I'm a cop and this is my job. I'm not a little kid who needs you to lead me around by the hand."
"I am your father, Peter," Caine said. "And I will not stand in your way. The truth you seek wears a gold ring on his smallest finger bearing a blue stone." With that, Kwai Chang Caine bowed and stepped out of Peter's way. By the time Peter reached the street, Jake Collins was nowhere in sight.
Part Six
Peter pulled his car behind a stand of bushes a short distance from Jake Collins' home. The man's car was parked before the small single story house. The front door was open.
Peter sat behind the wheel for several moments, deliberating. Did he want to spend the night in front of Jake Collins' home waiting to see if the man would implicate himself? Already, exhaustion was getting the better of him. He hadn't gotten any sleep at all the night before. He was working on 40-odd hours without rest.
But something about Jake Collins' home bugged him. His father would call it a disharmony. Peter couldn't sit any longer. He got out of his car, pocketed his keys and headed up the front steps of the Collins home.
The front door was slightly ajar as if its owner had forgotten to close it. Peter drew his gun and pushed the door the rest of the way open, careful not to touch anything. The scene in the living room brought him up short.
Jake Collins was laying in the middle of his livingroom floor with a syringe sticking in his arm. Assorted drug paraphernalia and drug making equipment lay scattered across the room as if the big man had fallen and taken it all with him.
Peter ran forward and placed a finger at the man's neck. A faint pulse beat there, but he didn't hold out much hope of it continuing. It would seem that he had found the source of the illegal drug operation. What better way to control the supply than to head up the task force to prevent its distribution? Peter called it in on Collins' own phone.
The paramedics and patrol cars arrived in record time. Several members of the task force arrived as well. Mary Margaret had left Caine and Nicky at Caine's place. When the mopping up was nearly done, she'd declared that she was exhausted and was heading back to Caine's to check on Nicky before going home to bed. Peter had waved her on her way.
It wasn't until all the evidence had been bagged and all of the task force had left save Peter and Collins' former partner, Gary Gerard that Peter realized how late it had become. It was nearly midnight. The man had lamented most of the evening that he couldn't believe that Jake could do such a thing, explaining that he had known the man for years. He ran a hand through his hair, decrying the unreliability of people.
Peter turned to him as he pulled the door shut and stepped beneath the crime scene tape. The brilliant blue of Gerard's gold pinky ring glistened in the light.
Allowing the other man to proceed him from Collins home, Peter turned down a side street and doubled back to follow Gerard at a discreet distance. The man drove toward the docks. Peter extinguished his lights and followed him in. An old garage door built against a large metal building opened and Gerard's car drove inside. Peter saw a dark form slip beneath the still lowering door before he had an opportunity to do the same thing himself.
The garage led to a long wide corridor. Gerard's brake lights were visible far ahead as he continued along the channel. Suddenly the brake lights extinguished and the sound of a car door closing could be heard. Peter thought he caught a shadow ahead of him then, but couldn't be certain.
Suddenly the entire room flooded with light. Peter found himself standing several feet behind Shawn Stevens. The young man was holding a gun and he spun on him.
"You're one of them," the young man shouted and pulled the trigger.
Peter couldn't dodge bullets, but he could try, he certainly didn't have anything to lose by making the effort. He wasn't fast enough. A sharp pain slammed into his right shoulder, knocking back against the side wall of the channel. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain as he flattened himself against the wall, hidden momentarily by a jutted metal area where the tunnel had been welded together. A rusted metal air vent was built into the wall at floor level. Peter could smell the water from the bay floating in.
Cradling his right arm against his body, he pulled out his gun with his left and pondered his options. Sometimes it paid to be southpaw. But then, all hell was breaking loose in the tunnel. He could hear running steps and the sound of commands being shouted. It wouldn't be long before he was found, especially considering he was leaving a trail of blood.
What had his father said? A pain shared could lead to hope in a dark place? He peered around the support and looked at Shawn Stevens looking utterly lost and confused as he stooped behind a set of steps that led along the side of the channel. Fighting his instincts, Peter grabbed Shawn and pulled him in the small hiding place beside him.
"For the record," he gasped out. "I am not one of the bad guys! I was trying to bust them. And I wouldn't advise using that gun on me again because just like Obiwan Kenobe, I'm your only hope of getting out of here alive."
Shawn must have believed him because he handed the gun over with trembling hands and began to cry.
Peter rolled his eyes and looked heavenward. "This is not what I need you to do." He said. "I need you to get out of here and call for back up. Tell them officer needs assistance. You got that?" Stevens nodded nervously, but seemed to be more in control now that he had a mission. Peter gestured toward the grate at floor level behind him. "This leads outside." He handed the gun back to the boy. "Shoot the grate at the other end off if you have to. Now go!"
Peter was just formulating a plan when the lights suddenly went out again. "Great!" he gritted out, so much for that idea. A string of three vehicles' approaching headlights did not exactly fill him satisfaction. Nor did the flash lights that were playing along the sides of the channel. He had to find a way to keep those cars inside, and he had to stay out of sight.
Turning in the direction that he hoped was the entrance, he went in search of the door opener. The smooth rising motion of the door upon entry had assured him that some sort of automatic electronic mechanism had been employed. He just had to find it.
The flash of the lights on the lead car speared illumination across the ceiling as the car settled into a dip in the channel and bounced back upward. "Thank you," he breathed, spotting the mechanism in the momentary brilliance. That was all he needed. He KNEW where the device was. He didn't need to see it again. He closed his eyes and took aim, picturing the control box in his mind.
The lead car was drawing closer, and the grinding sound of the door rising was beginning to echo through the tunnel, but Peter pushed those thoughts aside, focusing only on a lesson his father had taught him fifteen years prior. Gently, he squeezed the trigger. The resulting boom echoed through the tunnel followed by a brief spark and the slow grinding of the garage door as the mechanism gave up and ground to a halt.
Peter let out a breath, exhausted at the energy the task had taken. The warmth soaking through his shirt assured him that he had lost more than a healthy amount of blood. And the cars in the garage now had a target. The brilliant illumination of one of the big flashlights settled on his face.
He jumped out of the glare of the beam and ducked left. The buckling of metal near his ear warned that the shot had been far too close. It continued to reverberate in his ear. Other shots followed and he crawled one-handedly along the ground, looking for the grate through which he had sent Shawn.
As he entered the vent, he thought he could hear the sound of running footsteps around the ringing in his ears. They were probably running for the exit. He put on a burst of speed as he crawled toward the end of the vent. The smell of the bay and the sound of sirens urged him forward.
Reaching the edge, he was sure he heard the sounds of grunts and Mary Margaret Skalany at her most sarcastic as she read someone their rights. Tumbling out of the vent, he climbed wearily to his feet to find his father standing over five bad guys, all laid out on the ground. Shawn Stevens was settled against the side of Skalany's car looking exceedingly remorseful.
Peter looked between his partner and father. They both shrugged. He grinned and shook his head as his legs began to give out.
Caine approached worriedly and slipped something dry and leafy into his mouth. "You are hurt, my son."
"I will be fine, Pop. Dad." Peter said with a grin as the squad cars pulled to screeching stops lighting the area with surreal flashing lights. "I'll be just fine. Dare I ask what you are doing here?"
Caine shrugged. "Mary Margaret mentioned a man with a ring. We followed you here. Your young friend directed us to the correct opening."
Peter laughed. "So while I was busy following Gerard, you two were busy following me?"
Caine again shrugged and slapped a hand along the side of this son's face. "Part of a father's job."
Peter chuckled, then became more serious. "Thanks. Dad."
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
"So you'll be going to live with your aunt in Quebec?" Peter said to Nicky as they settled on his father's balcony. His leaned against the wall nearest the building, as far away from the edge as possible. His right arm was still cradled in a sling.
"Yes," the young woman affirmed. "I'll be leaving tomorrow."
Peter nodded. The social worker had told him.
"Thank you for telling me the story about you and your father," Nicky looked up at him and smiled.
"You're welcome," Peter ducked his head slightly. He hadn't minded sharing it. Somehow it eased some of the old pain knowing that he spoke with someone who had shared similar experiences.
"Peter, can I ask you one last favor?"
"Sure."
"Next time you have dinner with your father, tell him that it's good, even if it's rice."
The End