Pt. 11

Miriam slid quietly back into Kermit's apartment, making her way back to the clicking sound of a keyboard in the front room. She laid the detective's cell-phone on the table and stopped a few feet behind the hunched-over figure, waiting patiently until he acknowledged her presence.

"Where have you been?" Kermit snarled, his eyes flickering over her reflection on the monitor. He cautiously slid the blade of a stiletto under the mousepad, just out of sight. He had not noticed, at first, that she had left the apartment. It had come as something of a shock to have someone disappear without his notice, a situation that had only added to his paranoia.

"Out. Any new developments I should be aware of?" She replied, reading the entries on the screen as they flashed by.

"Nothing yet. I've accessed Customs records on both our possible victims. They've been busy boys." He leaned back with a sigh. "But nothing to make either of them more a possible than the other."

"Doesn't matter." She said, moving cautious closer to the table. "He's probably already made his move in that area. But he won't be able to pass up the opportunity to try to make a play for your friend, Detective Caine. This kill is strictly business but Caine would be purely pleasure and that's what our boy lives for. The pleasure of the kill."

Kermit frowned as he stared up at the still figure. "So you have some sort of plan to keep the kid from getting his head blown off while taking down the bad guy?"

"Do the police in this city have a good relationship with the local news media?" She asked, ignoring his question.

"Depends on what you consider good. There's one reporter who has made a career out of covering police action. Her name's Sandra Mason."

"Contact her. Tell her Detective Caine wishes to speak with her about the killings. If she's like other news types, she'll jump at the chance to have an exclusive."

"And who's going to tell Peter he's about to be on the air?" Kermit asked, a sinking forming in the pit of his stomach.

"Who do you think?" Miriam replied. She turned and silently disappeared out the front door, leaving the mercenary to work out the details of their next move.

Peter sighed in frustration as he watched his father move through his morning exercises. He had stopped at his father's dojo early to see if he could locate the mysterious Ms. Nightbird, who had neglected to tell him where she could be located. The young detective had spent most of his evening tracking down leads and working out the plan which had come to him when he had seen that photo of himself in the restaurant. Ms. Nightbird had said she believed that the photo was a challenge, a warning that he would soon be coming for one of them. It hadn't taken his vivid imagination long to figure a way to turn that challenge to his advantage.

"You look troubled my son." Caine commented, coming to a stop in front of his son.

"Things are pretty crazy right now, Pop." Peter replied, ignoring his father's frown. "The Mayor's breathing down Paul's neck for a solution to the killings, our killer has gone to ground and may be hunting one of us and to top it all off our Ms. Nightbird seems to have disappeared."

The sound of the door opening behind them broke his concentration momentarily. Peter looked back to see a stranger walk into the dojo. The man was dressed in black, with glasses darker than Kermit's hiding his eyes. His dark hair was long and wavy and his face classically handsome. He walked as quietly as Peter's father, seeming to almost glide over the floor rather than walk. "Can we help you?" Peter asked cautiously.

"I was just passing by and saw the studio. I was wondering if the instructor was accepting new students." The man replied quietly, reaching up to pull off his dark glasses. His accented voice was low and deep, almost too soft to hear.

Caine stiffened, as he looked into the man's eyes, seeing the pain behind the carefully constructed walls the man had obviously built around his soul. "You are interested in studying Kung-Fu?" he asked gently.

"You are the master here?" the man questioned, turning his attention to the older man.

"I am a teacher." Caine replied, bowing slightly. "I am Caine."

"I am Michael Simone." The man replied, returning the bow. "And I wish to be your student."

Miriam stopped in the alley across from the dojo and scouted the area. She frowned as she watched a familiar figure enter the studio. "Damn!" she thought. "Michael works fast. Looks like I'm going to have to move to Plan B." She spotted a pay phone at the end of the street and faded into the shadows, making a mental list of the people need for the next phase of her operation.

The killer watched his newest victims sleep with a frown. This was the part of the ritual that bored him. It wasn't as satisfying when the "Chosen", as he thought of his victims, weren't aware of their surroundings. He considered waking them early and beginning the ceremony but stopped himself quickly. These two weren't actually "Chosen" - not like the others were. Not like that young detective he had seen in Chinatown was. These two were simply business, the price he paid for being allowed to continue his quest against the "beautiful ones". But that would change soon. "Yes" he thought to himself, "Soon I will have a new "Chosen" here. A new vessel for my pain. Soon." He smiled quietly to himself and turned out the lights, leaving his victims to their nightmares.