Miller stared at the monitor, watching his prisoners. He still could not understand what Peter Caine saw in this old man. He could see where Peter got some of his determination. The blind chick, though handicapped, certainly seemed determined to find an exit and to find a way to help Caine. Milller watched as Annie Blaisdell felt along the wall, looking for the door that she had been flung into the room by. It would not be easy. The room had been specially designed. The door had been designed to be flush with the wall and there were no visible locks, making it much harder for a Shaolin to find a way to open it. Of course, Miller had not wanted to test that hypothesis. Instead, he ensured that Caine was out of commission by keeping him drugged with his special formula. It wouldn't be long before Caine required another dose, and when that happened, the prisoners would be separated, and the final game would begin.

"Mr. Miller, we have a problem."

Miller turned to face the man who intruded on his time of reflection.

"What is it Peterson?"

"It's Detective Griffin. I overheard he may have found a way to trace what's on that videotape."

"He's just a computer geek, what can he do?"

"You don't know him the way I do," Peterson replied. "Just because he sits in front of a computer 24 hours a day doesn't mean he's not dangerous."

"Well, take care of him. We can't risk him finding this place. I don't care how you do it. Just be sure it's a permanant solution."

As Miller was talking to Peterson, another associate watched. Then both Miller and Peterson soon left the room with another man and he got up and moved to the computer on Miller's desk. He logged onto the e-mail account and began typing. Within the hour he completed a detailed message, ran it through a coder, addressed it, then pressed send. As soon as the message disappeared, the man deleted any trace of the message he had sent. The man then packed up what he could, trying to leave no trace of his presence. As soon as he was satisfied, the man left the building, casually walking down the street until he could flag down a cab. His mission completed, the man vanished into the city. His only hope was that the person on the other end would receive the message in time.

*****

Kermit Griffin had been staring at a computer screen for hours. If it had not been for his trademark shades, those that had come and gone would have noticed that at least once he had fallen asleep with out their knowledge. He had searched every detail of the tape but there were no clues to determine where the kidnappers were holding Caine. Now he was running a voice match and it looked as if that effort was going to fail as well. Kermit listened to the track one more time. Though the voice had been distorted, something in the phrasing of certain words had nagged at Kermit's memory cells. He could have sworn he had heard . . . no, that wasn't it, he had read something similar, but when and where?

Kermit tapped his fingers on his desk and continued to stare at the screen. There was something familiar about this scene as well. As he watched Caine struggle to rise then fall to the floor for the final time, landing on his back in a prone position, Kermit suddenly reached up and froze the screen. Another image of Caine came to him, an image that stuck in his mind from over a year ago. Suddenly, Kermit rose from his chair, pulled out his desert eagle from the side desk drawer and checked the chamber for ammunition. He had to get to Peter Caine, tell him what he knew. From what he saw and heard, he knew the identity of the man who kidnapped Kwai Chang Caine.

At that moment, his computer gave out a familiar sound. Kermit crossed back over, typed in a few commands, and decoded the incoming message. A deep furrowed frown appeared on his brow as what he read confirmed his suspiscions. Not only was his suspiscions confirmed, but he also knew where the kidnapper could be found. Within seconds, he was holstering his special weapon and out the door heading to his Corvair.

*****

Miller entered the prison room. He could clearly see Annie Blaisdell was sitting next to Caine, trying to keep him warm and wiping his fevered brow with the only thing she had, a silk hankerchief that Peter had given her as a Mother's day gift. Her name had been skillfully embroidered in braille along one edge, embroidered in such a way so Annie could feel every stitch. She slowly turned as she became more aware that someone had entered the room.

"Whose there?"

"No one you really want to know Mrs. Blaisdell. Move away from Caine."

"No." Annie crept in front of the seated Shaolin , trying to shield him with her own body.

Miller signaled and two men came forward and grabbed the woman roughly by her arms and drug her across the floor. Annie struggled to be free from the men's grasp but they were too strong. No matter how she tried to strike out, she could not make contact to do her captures any harm.

"Caine!"

Caine remained seated, too weak to move or even to react as Miller approached with the syringe. He had been deep in meditation, and the struggle to come out of it was equally as draining. He felt the sting of the needle as it entered his arm the umpteenth time since his capture. He could feel the drug enter his system and work its poisoning effects on his chi, and this time, he knew he would not be waking from this dose.

*Peter, hear me. You must save Annie.*

Caine strugggled to establish a link, but he was still too weak. He must find a way to reach his son before it was too late.

"Caine!" Annie cried out one more time as she was dragged from the room. She had only regretted a few times in her life when she could not see, this was one of those times. Without her sight, she would not be able to tell Peter what had happened to Caine or where they had taken him. 'Oh, Peter, I'm sorry. I couldn't help your father.'

End of Part 9


Alisa Joaquin & Linda Schwartz Copyright@2000.
This story cannot be reprinted or sold in any other form without strict permission from the author. It is being distributed here solely for your enjoyment.