Pt. 14

The "Doctor" checked his two victims one last time, making sure the homeless drifter he had picked up on the way to Mathews office was still breathing. The killer had learned many new techniques in his years with the Section, ways to keep a body alive while experiencing all the pain and suffering normally reserved for the denizens of Hell. This victim had proven quite entertaining; with a capacity to withstand torture the killer hadn't seen in many years. It would almost be a shame to kill him. He calmly flicked on the television while he cleaned up and placed his regularly scheduled call.

"Yes?" a deep voice responded.

"It's done. Your package will be on the way shortly." The madman stopped, frowning as he watched the familiar figure of Peter Caine appear on the screen in what seemed to be some sort of special news bulletin. His eyes widened in outraged disbelief as the young detective detailed for the reporter the psychological profile of the "fiend" he thought he was chasing. "And here I thought you had a brain to go with that pretty face." The killer sneered, contemptuously. "Do you really think I'm stupid enough to fall for this?"

"I'm assuming your not speaking to Me." the voice at the other end of the phone responded dryly. "Is there a problem?"

"No problem, just a mild annoyance. Operations favorite bitch, Nightbird, is here and she's stirring up trouble."

"You should be more grateful to Miss Nightbird." The voice replied calmly. "After all, if she hadn't found you then you would never have joined our little group."

"Whatever you say." The killer eyed the phone thoughtfully. He had never actually seen the figure behind that voice, only occasionally catching glimpses of a shadowy figure watching as his Section trainers had worked to turn his mad obsessions to their advantage. "I think I'll make one little detour before I leave this little backwater town."

"Make sure my package is at the drop point at the appointed time." the voice replied coldly. "Or your life will become very unpleasant. Do I make myself clear?"

The Doctor dropped the receiver back on its cradle without a word, his eyes fixed on the flickering figure of the young detective. "You'll get your "package" he muttered, "But first, I and my Chosen One must come together. He is in serious need of correction."

Kermit watched as Peter paced the floor of his father's apartment. The young detective had been on edge since the hastily arranged news conference with Sandra Mason. He hadn't stopped moving in almost two hours. "Kid, you're going to wear a hole in that floor if you don't sit down."

"I should be out there, making a target of myself to draw that nutcase in." Peter complained bitterly.

"I think you already have." Kermit replied, dryly.

"You know what I mean." Peter bit back sharply. "I should be out there, in the open, at least pretending to hunt him down. Not hiding in the shadows of my father's rooms."

"If you make it too easy for him, he'll know it's a trap." Kermit's voice held an edge of exasperation. "Besides, being out in the open makes things too hard to control with too many variables to consider. This way, all we have to worry about is you."

Peter stopped his mindless walking and stood before the ex-mercenary, his arms crossed across his chest. "What about Ms. Nightbird and her new friend? What's their angle on this?"

"Don't ask." Kermit replied grimly. He glanced around the room somberly, making note of where everything was incase of a hasty retreat. "Whatever their reason for being here, when push comes to shove don't expect them to be in your corner. That kind is always playing a different game from you and me."

"I take it then that you don't trust me." Miriam's voice floated out of the shadows from the doorway. She picked her way around the trappings of the apothecary's trade to stand calmly before the two men.

"Where's your boyfriend?" Kermit asked, sarcastically.

"Michael? Probably checking in with his backup team to see when they will arrive." She shrugged, a mannerism eerily like Cain's. "We probably don't have too much time to make this work before they arrive."

"He's setting you up?" Kermit questioned, not terribly surprised by the news.

"Of course. He's a company man, after all. He's been ordered to bring me in and bring me is what he'll do. Even if it means letting that devil goes free."

"So how do we get around that little problem?" Kermit slid his gun out from behind his back and sighted down the barrel.

"Oh, we don't. I'm counting on their interference. It should make this all very interesting indeed." Miriam smiled at the confused detective beside her. "You're not saying much, Detective Caine. Cat got your tongue?"

"Why do I suddenly feel like a lab rat before clinical trials?" Peter asked, looking from Kermit to the dark-haired woman beside him. Neither of them offered any reassurance.

Outside, in Caine's tranquil garden, Michael was considering his options. Though he had appeared to turn off his communications link during the interview, he had only muted it, leaving the channel open to Section. Miriam's argument might be valid. The creature she was hunting was unstable and might just have slipped into the power of one of their enemies during one of his more manic phases. But this madman was not his problem. He contemplated the chances of being able to compel his former friend to return with him without the use of backup troops then dismissed the thought. Miriam would force him to kill her rather than submit. But she was a very pragmatic woman. If she were outgunned, she might consider surrender a more logical option.

"You are troubled?" Caine's soft voice came out of nowhere, startling the normally unflappable agent. He turned swiftly to find the older man had walked up behind him and stopped just out of arm's reach.

"What makes you think that?" he asked, mentally kicking himself for allowing this civilian to approach him unawares.

"You project an image of coldness, of uncaring and unfeeling aloneness. Yet I also feel much pain in your soul. Your journey in life has been a hard one."

Michael blinked then stepped back, putting more distance between him and the strange man in front of him. "I don't understand."

"You plan to betray your friend." Caine commented, moving to sit on the ground beside a small, ornamental pool.

"What has she told you?" Michael asked, a sick coldness settling in his stomach.

"She speaks little of anything other than this beast she hunts. Yet, it is in your eyes when you look at her, that painful darkness that you embrace."

Michael stood in silence, hoping Operations was not standing over Burkhoff's shoulder again. If he heard this man's words he would order Michael to bring him to section, a fate the Operative sensed would lead to the man's death. "We had better get inside and prepare. The Doctor should be making his move soon."

The words had barely left his lips when a projectile came flying over the wall to land at his feet. Michael stepped back instinctively, prepared for the object to explode. Caine rose gracefully to his feet and reached down to examine the object. It was a small box, covered with brown paper and tied shut with twine. Caine slipped the rope off the box and unwrapped it carefully, handing the paper to Michael. "There is a message written on this wrapping" he remarked.

Michael scanned through the message quickly. "It's addressed to your son. The message says if we wish to see someone named Mathews again we are to come to Tanner Park in one hour. And he has sent a gift, a token of his appreciation for Peter's description of him."

Caine frowned as he opened the small wooden box, and then stiffened in shock and horror. Inside, nestled in a bed of dirty newspaper, was the remains of a man's finger.