February 14th
Peter's eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness. He had started to place bets with himself on whether it was going to be peanut butter or bologna when his meal arrived and he could tell by the smell when it entered the room if he was right or wrong. They had thrown off his betting system by giving him a Tuna Salad sandwich once. He had thought it must have been Sunday.
He couldn't stand the smell of himself or the feel of the beard growing on his face. He had tried to clean up in the sink and had even tried to wash his shirt with the bar of hand soap but it hadn't done the job. It was fine until it got warm with his body heat then the smell returned.
He took it off and tossed it across the room. "I really liked that shirt too." He walked to the door "You guys owe me a new shirt." He yelled, but he wasn't sure that anyone heard him at all. There were no sounds from whatever lay outside his door except when they brought his food.
The fear had given way to depression. There were times that he wished that they would just enter the room and put a bullet in his head instead of shoving one of those damned sandwiches under the door. Then he thought of his mother and sisters, of Paul, and how it would hurt them if he just gave up and died. Would his father ever know that it was real this time? Would he care? How much did a wonderful coincidence matter at the end of the day? It had been fifteen years after all. He was probably used to the idea of his son being dead. He tried to chase those thoughts from his head. The man didn't deserve it. His father was… like his father before him and his father before him. Wanderlust had settled into the Caine family's feet and Peter figured that was the real curse on the line of Caine. The inability to stay in one place.
"Well, I avoided the curse, Pop. I am staying in one place. Good thing we redeemed the family name and broke that nasty curse, after all, I might be out there walking all over town otherwise." He laughed almost hysterically.
He thought about Kelly. What was she thinking, what was she feeling? Did she miss him or was she glad there was no one arguing with her all the time or leaving his socks on the floor? He really was a bad boyfriend if he thought about it. The more he loved a woman the worse he seemed to be. God, he missed her. He missed the way her hair would spill over his chest in the night. He missed her laugh. He missed the way she smiled, the feel of her hand in his, the way her dark eyes sparkled in the candlelight. She was better off without him. Probably a hell of a lot safer too. Work tended to follow him home. Never a good thing when you were a cop.
He was glad that he had no children to leave behind, wondering why Daddy never came home. Even though on one level he was also sad that he had never known what it was like to be a father. He knew there was no point in wondering what sort of father he would become. It would never be in his … limited... future.
"Come on Pop, figure it out. Please figure it out." Peter said. "I can't do this much longer. I think I'm losing my mind." He had no hope of help coming, especially not his father, but he took comfort in pretending that he did.
He tried again to meditate but with each day even that became harder to do, which was impressive given how spectacularly he had failed on the first day. His thoughts were becoming scattered and random. It was like being high without the floating sensation that came with it. Also without the top-volume lecture from Paul Blaisdell and an entire month of grounding with extra chores. Yeah, he had been a normal teenager once. With that particular activity, it had been only once. Paul had never been that angry with him before and Peter had been afraid that a second offense would land him back at the orphanage. He'd never voiced those fears with his foster father. He hadn't wanted to give him any ideas just in case it wasn't there yet.
"How is he holding on this long?" Kline asked. "I've known men to crumble after three days in this kind of isolation. He's been in there Eleven."
Miranda Gray shrugged "He was raised Shaolin. They're harder to break than others. Have patience, Kline. It just takes time. As long as we have him under our control in one form or another we have all the time in the world."
"And the longer it takes for him to break the longer his father has to find him."
"His father has no idea that he's even missing. As long as he stays in that room his father will sense nothing. His Shaolin tricks can only get him so far. He won't know that his son is in danger until we want him to. Don't worry so much. "She said. "Start feeding him every other day now. He's able to predict the passage of time by that pile of paper plates he's keeping in the corner. "
The Ancient knew something was wrong. He had promised to look after Peter while Kwai Chang was gone. The press had not mentioned the disappearance of the prominent detective at all. But there were rumors. Officers were asking questions about when Peter was seen last in China Town. The car that was pulled from under the pier looked exactly like Peter's car.
He was afraid that he had waited too long before beginning to investigate. He looked up at the high-rise apartment building where Peter lived and saw that a light was on where he believed his apartment was. He wasn't certain what or whom he would find there. He entered the lobby and found that the elevator was out of order. "Bloody Marvelous." He said as he began to take the stairs. "I have let myself go." He muttered to himself at about the 12th floor. He continued up the next five flights of stairs at a slower pace. "I am Shaolin. Old age is no excuse."
He knocked on the door, even though he was certain Peter was not there.
A young woman opened the door. She was pretty, with long dark hair and brown eyes. " I was hoping to speak with Peter Caine."
Tears gathered in her eyes and she cleared her throat before speaking. "Peter isn't here." She said, "You're the one they call the Ancient, aren't you."
"Yes, because I am very old. But you may call me Lo Si." He said. "May I come in?"
She nodded and stepped aside to let him in. She closed the door behind him "Can I make you some tea?" She asked.
"You look like you need it more than me. Please, allow me to do this." He said and walked toward the kitchen with her. He put the kettle on the stove to boil and sat down at the small table with her. "Can you tell me what has happened to him?"
"If I knew I would." She said. "He went to say goodbye to his father and no one has seen him since."
"I was there when they parted company, and he walked with me a while before we went our separate ways. I had not heard from him since then. But I did not think anything of it as his life is very busy. So I thought to seek him out myself."
"They found his car under the pier in Chinatown with his gun and wallet in the back seat. There has been no ransom demand, no contact of any kind. It's been two weeks, people are starting to say he's dead."
"Peter is not dead." The Ancient said, his tone gentle, yet firm, The kettle began to whistle, so he rose from his seat to move it from the heat. He found the cups and the tea easily and made two cups, bringing them to the table. "His essence is still in the city. I do not have the bond to him that his father has, but I can sense that he is still among the living."
"Is that why his father left?" She asked, bitter on Peter's behalf. She knew his fears even if Peter didn't voice them directly. "Because they have such a tight bond." Her tone was sharper than she intended "I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that. I just … He went to Chinatown that day because he had this… feeling that his father was going to skip out. We fought about it before he left. Turns out he was right though wasn't he."
Lo Si shook his head, sadly. "There had been a weight on his father's shoulders that was lifted. It left a vortex of uncertainty. He had to leave in order to find his way. In order to be complete. It was not that he ever intended to abandon Peter. He will return in time."
"By then there may not be a reason... He was abducted. I'm sure of it. But only because his body hasn't washed up on the shore somewhere." It was probably weighted down and tossed out to sea, but she wasn't willing to give that thought much air time in her head… yet. It would be too much like giving up. There were enough people out there giving up on Peter. He didn't need his girlfriend to do the same. "It's been two weeks. If Peter's still alive it's because they need something from him he's not giving up. There's only so much patience people like that have."
"There are more villains in the world than the sort you deal with every day. Peter has made his presence felt in Chinatown. He is special and others have discovered this."
"Are we talking about the Tongs?" There were undercover police officers among the tongs. They would have gotten word to the Precinct by now if Peter were held by them… or dead.
"No." He said " Not the Tongs. Peter would be home now if the tongs were the ones that had taken him. But do not give up. No matter what you may hear or see, do not give up on him."
"You don't know how hard that is." She said.
He patted her hand gently "Actually, I do. I lost someone I loved once when they were taken from me. " He said. "It is harder to believe that he lives than it is to believe he is dead, but I cannot imagine that Peter would be involved with a woman who could not do difficult things."
February 18th
Kwai Chang Caine settled in Chinatown in New River City. He had been asked to stay by the elders. The tongs that he had originally dealt with before leaving for Bayview and the Emperor, had been replaced by another more sinister group of criminals.
The police had been unable to do much. While there were laws against intimidation it was very hard to prove if no one was willing to testify. He expected that it was an old enemy returned. They seemed to be reappearing with alarming regularity. It was why he had not told Peter where he planned to travel. There were sects and cults and even tongs that were more ancient and powerful than people realized. They not only used physical and mental means of intimidation, they sometimes used supernatural means. Yes, his son had helped him face powerful evil and even men trained in esoteric mysteries. Yes, he was a capable young man. But there were still things in this world he was not ready to face and would not be ready to face until he completed his training. So he sought to protect his son from them the best way he knew how. Leading them away.
He entered the tea shop and sat at a table that allowed him to see out the window and to be easily seen. He ordered a pot of tea and took out his new blank Journal and pen. Once the book was filled he would make certain that his son would have this one too.
An elderly woman, Mrs. Lin, entered the tea shop and sat down at the table with Caine. "Thank you for returning Master Caine. I was sorry to pull you away from your reunion with your son, but your help has been needed."
He tilted his head slightly "How did you know about my son."
"I spoke at length with Lo Si. He was concerned about the timing. I would have waited longer but we feared that it would be too late before you could come back to us as it was. Even our local priests fear these men."
He nodded "Tell me of your troubles." Caine did not allow the conversation to linger on his son. He did not wish to give whatever enemy lurked in this Chinatown more information to work with. He worried about him, but he was not getting the sensation that Peter was in trouble, merely distancing himself. It didn't feel right but it didn't feel precisely wrong either. He had not been able to put his finger on it, as Peter would say, and he was afraid that perhaps he had hurt his son too much with his departure and that was why he was placing a wall between them.
"They call themselves The Harbingers."
His eyes narrowed "I am familiar with the sect. What do they want in Chinatown."
"We do not know. They are searching for something that is supposed to be hidden here, protected by one of the elders, but they will not tell us what it is they seek, and neither are the elders telling us what they are protecting.
"The Artifacts of my ancestor Kwai Chang." He said with certainty. "They search for them tirelessly, or for any Shaolin artifact."
"Are they your enemies?" She asked.
"Only in that, they are the enemy of all things Shaolin." He said, His father William had set about finding as many of the artifacts as possible and putting them with temples to safeguard which was how Caine came to learn of the Harbingers. His father had fought them tirelessly. "You are certain that these Harbingers are here in New River City?"
She nodded "Yes, I am quite certain." she said. "Will you do me the honor of staying in my house?"
"I have been staying with Master Jian." He said.
" I have a great deal of fear where these men are concerned. It would ease my anxiety greatly if you were to stay."
He put his hand over hers. "I would be honored to stay with you for a time." He said.
Peter had moved his mattress to the far corner of the room. Not that it had been much of a move in a 6x9 room. He sat at the head of the bed, back in the corner and his knees pulled up against his chest "Not real, it's not real." He said taking in shallow trembling breaths. He was certain he could hear things slithering across the floor, scales scraping against the stone. "You're losing it, Caine. It's too cold in here for a snake to want to hang out. It's not real." He hadn't been able to sleep in God only knew how long. The slithering, scraping sound had begun to permeate even his dreams.
In the beginning, he'd been able to gauge the passage of time by how often he was fed. Now, this was happening less frequently. He was sure of it. His stomach growled more often and his pants (Which were on the verge of demanding civil rights) were getting too loose. How long had he been there if he'd started to lose weight?
He had given up on being able to get away. Nothing he had tried had worked. His captors had not once opened the door. The only thing crossing that threshold would be bad sandwiches and whatever it was he was hearing slither across the floor.
"You're not real." He yelled, putting his hands over his ears to block out the sound. He knew that isolation could cause hallucinations. Combined with sensory deprivation and lack of sleep it was probable that he was hallucinating the slithering sound. It was possible that the sounds were being piped into his prison. What was not possible was that there were snakes as big around as his leg slithering around on the floor. He knew these things because of conversations he'd had with a psychiatrist he had briefly dated and because of the many lectures on the nature of reality, real and perceived, by his father and the other masters at the temple. But knowing a thing didn't make you immune to it. So he was convinced that he was hallucinating.
Until he felt something moving against his leg, something long and scaly. Then Peter Caine began to scream.
Miranda laughed "When he can't scream any longer see that he's cleaned up and brought to me." She was pleased. So very pleased at this development. But she had to be careful. She wanted to break this man's reputed iron will, not break his mind completely. She needed to break him down slowly, whittle away at his ties to his former life, and leave him with nothing and no one but her and the order.
"You got it. So is this the time we move against the father?" Kline asked.
"No, this is merely the next phase of breaking the son." She said "The father is not our concern. Peter Caine is the one we require. If Kwai Chang Caine interferes he dies. "