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Chapter Ten
Peter took a final look at Stamper, satisfied the man was still preoccupied, then closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He flinched when there was a flash of lightning was followed by a bone-rattling round of thunder. Taking advantage of nature's cover, he reached up with his good hand and pulled the knife away from the post, grinding his teeth to keep from crying out. The injured hand dropped limply to his lap and throbbed with a fierceness Peter was getting far too used to in recent days.
Taking in big gulps of air, he tried to get past the pain. He held the bloody knife as he wiped the back of his good hand across his wet face and blinked a few times. He forced himself to his feet, using the post for support, then took a step forward, cautiously gauging his strength while watching Stamper. He knew he had to reach Stamper before the man turned toward him again.
Stamper stood in front of his case, staring out into the forest as if he was trying to determine the exact position of something he was seeing on one of his screens.
'Kermit!' Peter thought, 'Stamper's trying to figure if it's something more than a bear out there. Ah, geez.'
Peter walked in a crouch, his bleeding hand hanging down limply while the other held his knife. His approach had to be silent until he was upon Stamper, because surprise would be his only advantage. He knew he had enough reserves to exchange a few punches with the former Navy Seal, but not enough for an extended hand-to-hand fight.
Peter moved along, walking as softly as he could. The action triggered a memory of trying to walk on rice paper as a child at the temple. Other memories came with that one and soon he was lost in the past.
Flashback
"I'm scared," young Peter told his father.
"Fear is your companion. Your friend. Your ally," was his father's response as Peter watched another student fighting with Master Khan.
"Then why do my hands tremble?"
"Your body will respond to your thoughts. Be aware of your enemy. Who he is. Where he is. When you become one with him, your hands will cease to tremble. When you vanquish him, you will no longer be afraid."
End of Flashback
'Be one with Stamper, Pop? Not sure if my sanity can handle something like that. Still, not having my hands trembling, hell, my whole body trembling for that matter, would feel pretty damned good.'
Peter didn't bother to chide himself for talking to memories. He was closing on Stamper and that was all that mattered.
oOoOoOoOo
Just as Paul was about to lower the binoculars, Peter moved. Paul bit into his lip as he watched his son pull the knife and his hand away from the post, and then after a moment, Peter stood.
Jody's voice came alive on the radio. "Peter's on the move. I repeat, Peter is on the move and it looks like he's about to attack Stamper."
"Damn it," Paul muttered, the decision to act now unavoidable. "Everyone, move in on my command."
Just then, there were multiple lightning strikes, illuminating the entire area with white light.
"Goddamn it," Paul said more emphatically, worrying that the sudden light would cause Stamper to turn and see Peter out in the open, vulnerable and near collapse.
oOoOoOoOo
Peter was almost upon Stamper when the multiple lightning strikes lit up the night sky. He froze in place, not moving in hopes Stamper would not glance his way, but Stamper appeared to be involved in something else altogether, then Peter saw what it was when another lightning strike brightened the night. In that instant, he saw Chin trying to help Kermit to his feet.
"Ah, shit,"Peter muttered under his breath, knowing in his heart that Stamper would act within the next second.
Peter crossed the remaining distance between him and Stamper, his thoughts solely on Kermit and Chin. He was about to plunge his knife into Stamper's back when the man turned toward him, deflecting the knife enough to cause it to graze across his left shoulder and arm. The knife's path cut through Stampers's vest, ripping it away as Stamper fell back. The knife wound did some damage, but unfortunately not enough to put the man down.
Stamper bellowed with rage, then tried to take the knife from Peter, but only managed to knock it from Peter's grasp. Peter pressed on with his attack. Using moves he'd learned as a child, and then relearned with his father's return in his life, Peter fought Stamper without conscious thought, going from one blow to the next as if he was doing a complicated Tai Chi form. His technique was flawless, despite one bloody arm that hung limply at his side.
Peter had claimed the element of surprise and prevailed with his unexpected attack. He breathed a sigh of relief when Stamper wound up on the ground, shaking his head to clear it as he tried to get to his knees. Peter kept on like a man possessed, although his sudden surge of stamina had him somewhat baffled.
Hit after hit, blow after blow ensued. He used his feet, elbows, knees and one good hand to the best of his abilities, but he was already weakened, so his blows didn't carry much force. Plus, the edges of Peter's vision was beginning to shimmer. Time was running out. Not only for him, but for Kelly and Skalany.
But Peter had little time to devote to worry. He had to keep going because he had no other choice. There were lives on the line, lives relying upon him for rescue, but Peter wasn't foolish enough to think he could beat Stamper. Hell, forget about beating Stamper, he just wanted to stop the man before anyone else was hurt, so he redoubled his efforts.
oOoOoOoOo
Paul watched in muted horror as he saw Peter begin his attack on Stamper. "Move, people! Move in now! Take Stamper out of commission by any means possible!"
He dropped the binoculars and raised his handgun to see if he could get a shot without endangering Peter, but Peter was too close to Stamper, laying down one punch after another, and Paul couldn't take the chance that he might hit him instead of Stamper.
He lowered the gun, and saw Blake was already moving, heading toward the front of the cabin. Paul grunted as he got to his feet. Healing wounds from the Shadow Assassins attack kept protesting his continued exertion, but they didn't slow him down. Paul was stubborn enough not to let that happen.
Within a few steps, he caught up to Blake. He saw Jody moving in, too. All three of them approached with weapons drawn just as Peter slipped on some mud and went down hard. Paul wasn't sure if Peter would be able to stand again, because his movements were so stilted. The momentary lapse was all Stamper needed to take control of the situation.
He grabbed Peter by the throat and pulled him close as he got to his feet, picking up the knife Peter had just dropped. Stamper saw the detectives surrounding him and giggled.
"It's over, Stamper. Release my detective and step away from him," Paul ordered in his strongest voice possible.
Stamper's giggle increased with the command. His face had several spots that were bleeding from Peter's attack and he wiped at the blood dripping into one eye while keeping a tight hold on Peter's semiconscious body.
"I don't think so, cop," Stamper replied. "This po-lice-man is my ticket out of here."
"It's not going to happen that way, Stamper. This ends here and now."
Stamper's nervous giggle was nearly out of control as Kermit and Chin stepped out of the brush. Kermit leaned heavily on Chin for support, but he still had his weapon out and aimed it at Stamper, as did Chin. Stamper stared down the five detectives still moving closer to him, one step at a time.
"No, you're gonna let me leave with Caine or I'll slit his throat before you can get off a single shot."
Peter shook his head as if to clear it, then slumped again, drifting in and out of consciousness. Paul tried to block out his concern for Peter and focused only on Stamper. After a moment, he shook his head. "Don't be stupid. All five of us are very good shots. Don't make us fire on you. Give up and live to see another day."
Stamper's giggling stopped for a moment as he countered Paul's threat with one of his own. "You may be good shots, but even if you take me down, you've still got two detectives missing. Without me, you'll never find them in time."
Paul's firm expression didn't waver as he replied, "We'll find them – with or without your help. What you should be thinking about is how to keep the number of criminal charges against you from increasing. What you do in the next few minutes will determine whether you live or die."
Stamper's chin came up defiantly. "Are you talking about a death sentence or one of you taking me out?"
"Does it matter?" Paul asked, "Death is still death."
"You won't kill me," Stamper whispered, glaring at Paul as he adjusted his hold on Peter's limp form. Peter seemed to be losing his battle with consciousness. Stamper was a strong man, but holding Peter's dead weight caused his grip to slip and Peter slid down to his knees.
Paul stared Stamper in the eye as he said, "Well, that depends on what you do. But I should warn you, I was a soldier like yourself before I went into law enforcement. Special Forces and beyond. I've killed many men. One more won't matter to me – especially one who has endangered people under my command."
"All cops are so full of bullshit. You're no different than any other," Stamper responded, but there was a hint of fear in his eyes now.
"Try me," Paul said without emotion.
Stamper broke the eye contact with Paul, glancing around, looking at the other four detectives and their weapons, as if madly searching the area for escape options.
"Stamper, I'm giving you one last chance," Paul said, coming to a stop with Stamper's forehead centered in his sights.
Peter groaned suddenly, choosing that particular moment to return to consciousness. The timing couldn't have been worse. His uncoordinated movements gave Stamper the distraction he needed and he pulled Peter back to his feet, dragging him along.
Peter's gaze darted around in confusion. Paul caught his eye and slightly gestured with one hand for Peter to stay put.
"I swear I'll slit his throat if you all don't lower your weapons and move away," Stamper threatened as he continued to retreat.
"No, you won't," Paul said firmly.
"Try me," Stamper said as his giggling returned.
"Take him down, Paul," Peter called out to Paul, gasping for air as he struggled against Stamper's hold. "This piece of shit can't be allowed to kill again!"
Stamper slid the knife along Peter's throat with enough pressure to draw blood without actually cutting into the tissue beneath it. Peter's face contorted as he fought to remain silent.
"You've got three seconds to release him or I'll fire," Paul said without moving.
He paused another moment for effect, then said, "One."
Stamper kept backing away, dragging Peter with him. His rough movements elicited a low groan from Peter.
"Two," Paul said firmly.
Stamper's expression became desperate as he looked for escape options. Paul watched as Peter took a deep breath, seeming to collapse, then came up fast, surprising Stamper with a swinging elbow into Stamper's throat.
Stamper clutched at his throat as he coughed and sputtered, wobbling madly to maintain his balance. He made a half-hearted attempt to go after Peter, but Peter managed to crawl far enough away to be out of his reach, using his hands and feet as he stumbled, but he kept going until he reached Jody.
Peter looked back, then straightened and put out a hand as he said two words, "Trip wire."
A glint of fear came into Stamper's eyes as he looked at Peter, as if trying to decipher Peter's message. Stamper seemed unable to stop the momentum of his awkward movements. Before any of the detectives could do anything, Stamper's foot hit the trip wire Peter had seen. Panic flashed over Stamper's expression a half second before he was engulfed in a terrifying burst of flames.
The ex-Navy Seal batted at the fire with his hands, waving his arms wildly in the air before he dropped and rolled in the damp undergrowth. Chin and Blake rushed up with their jackets and slapped at the flames, trying to smother them with the garments, but they couldn't get close enough to do anything.
By the time Paul reached Stamper's side, the man was enveloped in fire with such intensity that Paul had to put a hand up to protect his eyes. All he could hear was Stamper's last words, screaming into the night. "Momma? I'm burning! Just like you! I'm sorry... "
The apology blended into horrific screams without words. None of them could get close to the man as he burned, but then his screams died with the thunderous roar of Kermit's Desert Eagle. He glanced at Kermit whose weapon was still aimed at Stamper, then at Stamper. There was no question the man was dead.
Peter got to his feet with Jody's help, his hand pressed against his bloody side. The two limped over to the still burning corpse. He looked at Paul in wide-eyed confusion before his eyes rolled up into his head and he dropped to his knees, dragging Jody down with him. She managed to slow his descent, so he didn't hit the ground hard – not that he noticed.
A moment later, Peter's gaze darted around the area. He flailed his arms and murmured, "Kelly! God, how are we supposed to find Kelly and Skalany now?"
He tried to get up one more time, but passed out instead. A moment later, Kermit groaned and dropped to his knees, though he managed to stay upright. Chin helped him stand again, but Kermit swayed as he directed his attention on Peter.
"How's he doing," Kermit asked breathlessly, holding on tightly to his right shoulder.
Paul noted how Kermit still allowed Chin to keep an arm around him for support and that said a lot about Kermit's current condition.
Blake covered Stamper's body with a tarp that had been lain over the nearby wood supply. The stench of burned flesh was almost overpowering as Paul knelt beside Peter. Paul felt for a pulse on Peter's throat and sighed in relief. Looking up at the others, he said, "He's alive, but that's about it. He needs medical attention ASAP."
He turned toward Kermit and added, "So do you."
"I'm fine," Kermit barked.
"Oh yeah. Sure you are," Paul said sarcastically, turning to the others. "Blake, call in the troops. Have them try Atkins Road. Warn them it's barely a road, especially with the rain we've had, but it might get them past the destruction Stamper did with his explosives. Worse case scenario, have them check into the use of the county's heavy duty equipment, backhoes and such to forge a path through the fire. They are stored nearby at a depot near Masonry. And get some EMTs over here on the double."
Jody was at Peter's side, brushing his hair away from his face. Finally, she looked at Paul, concern tightening her delicate features. "Captain, what 'are' we going to do about Kelly and Skalany?"
Paul wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and rocked back on his heels. "That's the 64,000 question."
"We find them," Kermit spoke up, determination marking his every move, "That's what we do. We find them and put an end to this madness."
Paul looked up at him, almost believing that Kermit could do just as he said, then he blinked a few times as reality clarified his thoughts and he glanced back down at Peter's still form and sighed.
"Let's get Peter inside and tend to him as much as we can until the professionals arrive."
"Paul?" Kermit hobbled closer to him.
Paul turned back to his old friend. "Yes, Kermit, we will search for them, but it would be wise not to nurture false hope. Without specific information from Stamper, the search will be like looking for a needle in a haystack."
Kermit smirked. "My specialty."
Paul ignored Kermit's quip and began to lift Peter up to carry him inside as rain began to come down in great sheets of water. Chin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "You help Kermit. Jody, Blake and I will get Peter inside."
Paul begrudgingly stepped aside, taking up Chin's position supporting Kermit. Soon, they had Peter lying on the sofa in the cabin's living room. Lights had been turned on and first aid applied while calls were made. Paul wandered to the front door and stopped, looking out at the stormy night eerily lit by the forest fire behind them and wondered how the hell they would find Kelly and Skalany.
He felt a presence beside him, knowing it was Kermit without turning around.
"We'll find them, Paul," Kermit said quietly.
Paul didn't answer for a while. When he did, it was without turning around. "I hope to hell you're right, Kermit, because I don't think Peter will survive the news of their deaths."
"We'll find them," Kermit repeated.
Paul kept staring outside and didn't answer this time, battling the rampant doubt in his heart. He remembered what he had told Peter in the hospital. 'I don't lose people on my operations.'
Now, the memory stabbed like a knife in the heart as he reminded himself there was a first time for everything.
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