DISCLAIMER: I'm just playing with'em, like to thank my eddies, steve.
please leave me comments. tigeresse@hotmail.com 6-01-2001

	  
	"I saw that, Peter," said the quiet, but deep voice of Kwai Chang 
Caine. Coming into the room where Peter sat, he observed his son trying hard 
not to laugh.  
	The young man failed miserably as he broke up in laughter and 
reached for his father’s tea cup. "It was a good shot, you have to admit 
that."  The older man just frowned. "Aw come on, you wouldn’t believe how 
many grapes I threw until I got one in. Besides, isn’t it some sort of focal 
lesson; the grape seeks the tea cup, the tea cup seeks the grape. Therefore, 
they are one?"
	Sensing his father not buying it, Peter sighed and fished the 
swimming grape out with his fingers. "Here," Peter set the cup in front of 
his father and popped the grape into his mouth. "Mmm, green tea grapes, 
think we could market this stuff?"
	Caine looked into his violated tea cup. "I think you should help me 
later tonight to finish potting the plants Mrs. Woo gave me."
	Peter laughed, he was in the neighborhood when he decided to stop 
by and have a short dinner break with his father. Coming in time to see his 
father repotting a number of newly acquired herbs and plants, he conned the 
older man into taking a break from the dirty work.  And now that supper was 
over, he was just killing time, holding off the inevitable before he had to 
go back to the precinct and finish paperwork.  
	Standing, he replied, "alright, my shift ends around nine. I’ll see 
you when I’m done. Bye Pop."  With that, the brown haired detective skipped 
out the door, leaving blessed silence, but a slight feeling of emptiness 
as well.
	Kwai Chang Caine shook his head, and began picking grapes up off 
the floor. 

	Lighting the last of the candles, Kwai Chang had been waiting for 
over an hour for his son to arrive.  Since the plants were finished being 
repotted, he decided to meditate until his son arrived.  
	Sitting down in the center of the mediation room, its soft yellow 
walls gently blended with the candleglow, bringing an instant feeling of 
peace and relaxation. Caine slipped into a tranced state easily, seeking the 
corners of his psyche.
	Slowly, amist the peaceful atmosphere, two dark clad figures crept 
over to the incumbent Shaolin priest. Pulling out a hypodermic needle, the 
one figure plunged it into the priest’s arm.  
	Fast, but not quite fast enough, Caine kicked the attacker away 
from him and pulled the needle out of his arm. Tossing the syringe aside, 
he blocked a kick from the second attacker. With one punch, he sent the man 
flying back. 
	Caine searched for the first attacker. Standing across the room 
from him, the figure seemed to be waiting for something.  All of a sudden, 
a fog drifted over his vision and he could feel himself falling.  Caine 
violently shook his head, trying to stop the blackness enveloping him.  
Sensing the figures right beside him, Caine slumped unto the floor.
	Each of the invaders grabbed an arm and began dragging the comatose 
priest out of the loft. 
	
	Once on the street, the kidnappers stopped and looked at the sight 
before them.
	"Hey Eddie, where’s the van?" 
	The second man scratched his head. "Beats the hell outta me. We left 
it right here. Someone must have lifted it."
	Glancing at the vacant parking space, only two other cars were 
parked nearby.  One was an older Buick, and the second, a beatup looking 
Volvo.  Besides the two cars, the street was empty. 
	"Forget the van, lets just hot-wire the Buick and get out of here 
before someone sees us."  Each grabbed an arm, the two men drug the priest 
to the car and tried the handle.
	"Will you believe this, Chinatown’s a high crime area and this guy 
leaves his cardoor unlocked. Think he left his wallet?"  The one guy joked.  
Opening the backdoor, the two hefted Caine into the backseat.
	As soon as the door was closed, a blue Stealth pulled up next to 
them. A glance passed between the two masked men and Peter, then the men 
took off running.
	"What the..." Peter grabbed his police transmitter, "This is 
Detective Peter Caine asking for backup at my father’s house in Chinatown. 
There are two masked men running on foot."  With that, Peter took off 
running after the suspects.
	Coming over to the cars, an old lady watched Peter take off after 
the suspects. "Damned yuppies," she muttered to herself. A small brown 
pocketbook was clutched in her hands, she pulled out a set of car keys from 
her pocket and walked over to the Buick.  Slowly she got in and then drove 
off, unknowing of her unexpected passenger.
        
  *           *            *          *           *
	
	Coming around to the side of a small house, the old Buick creaked 
to a halt. A small, seventy-ish woman got out of the car. Walking along a 
well worn path to the porch, past blooming rose bushes and other flowers, 
she opened the screen door and yelled in "hey, Martha, get out here and help 
me with the groceries."
	Turning, she walked the few feet from the door to her car.  
Smothering a yawn, she opened the back car door.
	"Ahh!" Turning quickly, she hustled back to the safety of the porch.  
"Martha, come quick, there’s someone in the car!"
	"What?" Martha appeared in a soft blue bath robe. Her grey-white hair 
up in curlers, she put her hands on her hips. "Why Miss Ethal, what do you 
mean?  You brought a man-friend home?" She batted her eyes at the last part.
	"No, I mean there’s someone in the back seat."  Ethal put her hands 
on her face. "Oh my, The only places I went were over to my son’s house, 
then I briefly stopped in Chinatown on my way home. I mush have picked him 
up in Chinatown."
	"Oh my Miss Ethal, you know what they say about those foreign men."  
Smiling, she placed her hand over her heart, "why, we must go help him 
now." She opened the door to come out.
	"Wait, what if he’s dangerous?  Grab something to hit with Martha, 
please?" Ethal looked at the car then back to Martha.
	Sulking slightly, "alright, but I get first dibs." She disappeared 
into the small room behind her. Emerging, she stepped out the door, frying 
pan in hand.  
	Ethal nodded, and the two walked over to the car. "I got an idea 
Martha, you try to wake him by touching his foot.  And I will go to the 
side with his head, that way if he tries anything, I can hit him right 
away."
	"Alright," Martha handed over the pan, "but I know some better 
spots to touch to wake him that might be alot more interesting." 
	Ethal just ignored her.
	With the one car door open, the women could see his feet sticking 
out. "I’ll go around and open the other door."  Ethal said, and moved to 
the other side of the car. Once there, she slowly opened the door, holding 
the frying pan above the man’s head.  He was sprawled across the back seat, 
his head was just hanging over the edge of the side and his knees were 
slightly bent because of the short space.
	"Ya know Ethal, he’s not wearing any shoes. And he’s kinda handsome, 
I say we keep’em."  said Martha, as she reached for his foot. "Wake up 
sleepyhead, you landed yourself in Heaven."
	He groaned softly, moving his head slightly. Martha saw him open 
his eyes. She smiled. He tried to sit up.
	"He’s attacking you!"  Ethal screamed, and brought the frying pan 
down on his head. Along with the thunk came another groan, and the man 
blacked out again.
	"You idiot! You killed him! What were you thinking?!"  Martha ran 
around the car and grabbed the frying pan. 
	Ethal stood in an stubborn silence as Martha yelled at her, when 
she went to take a breath, Ethal jumped in. "Well, I thought he was going 
to hurt you and that’s that. Now the question is, what are going to do with 
him?"     	  
	Martha stood with her arms folded under her breasts, "I don’t know.  
We might as well put some liqueur in his mouth and leave him by a bar 
somewhere, maybe the cops will pick him up."
	"You really think that’s what we should do with him?"  Ethal 
nervously rubbed her hands together. "Well, I’ll go in and grab the brandy 
if you wanna get on a coat."
	Martha sighed, "fine, grab me a scarf as well, I still have curlers 
in."

	Driving alongside a brightly lit bar, the two women watched the 
neon turn their windshield blue and red. 
	"This looks as good a place as any. I’ll pull along the side of 
the building and you can help me pull him out." said Martha, positioning 
the car where she wanted it.
	"You sure no one will hurt or try to rob him?" asked Ethal, 
grabbing the man by the legs.
	"It would be hard to rob a man in pajamas. And I think its a little 
late for the injuring part, don’t you?" 
	Pulling the man out of the car, they set him near the backdoor to 
the bar. "Such a waste of a good man."  Martha sighed, as she splashed a 
little brandy in his mouth and on his clothes.  She then placed the bottle 
in his arms. "Good-bye my dear stranger, if only we could have gotten to 
know each other."  Martha knelt down and kissed him softly on the head.
	"For luck" she shrugged when Ethal gave her a questioned look. 
Once she was in the car, they were gone, and Caine was left alone.


	Jerry stumbled out of the bar. He straightened his worn brown 
jacket and scratched his rear. His hair hung just below his ears and he 
placed an old baseball cap on his head. "Stupid bartener" he muttered while 
slowly walking around the side of the building. After going a few feet, he 
tripped over Caine.
	"What the hell do you think you’re doing, tripping me like that and 
all? Don’t you know I was walkin here?" He grumbled while sitting up next 
to Caine. "Hey, aren’t you listenin to me?" Jerry poked Caine in the side 
and laughed "Why, you’re drunker than I am. Mind if I have a sip outta that 
bottle you have there?"  He picked up the brandy bottle and took a long 
swig. "Ah, that’s some good stuff.  By the way, I’m Jerry."  He offered his 
hand, then took another swig.  
	"Yep, ya know, if you were smarter, you wouldn’tev passed out here.  
The cops like to come by and pick up the drunk people. They beat them up 
and stuff, or so I’ve heard.  My new buddy inside the bar said he was 
picked up once. Then beaten up by those swiney pigs. All they do is harass 
you when you’re down and cater to the rich people, isn’t that right my 
friend?" 
	Jerry looked closer at Caine. "Why mister, you look like you been 
through the ringer already tonight. Hey, are you Chinese? You got the 
features of one. What are you doing way over here? Chinatowns that way." 
Jerry raised his left arm and pointed.  
	As if he was a prophet of old, a police crusier drove past the 
alleyway on cue. "See, I told ya so. I think its time I get movin on."  
Jerry stood and stretched, his back popping noisily. "Ahh, that felt good. 
Hey, what about you mister, where you be going?"  He scratched his head, 
looking around. "I guess I better take him with me. He’s really out of it."
	Eyeing the area around him, he yelled happily and ran over to a 
nearby house, disappearing under its dark porch. A few seconds later, 
he emerged with a little red wagon. 'Radio Flyer' was printed in white 
lettering on the sides. Wooden railings made the sides higher than the 
normal metal reached.  
	Bringing the wagon over to Caine, he pulled the back rail off and 
went over to hoist the unconscience man in.
	"Now I know you ain’t gonna fit completely, but I can get you in 
enough to pull ya down the street."  Grabbing his arms, Jerry half 
lifted-half dragged him into the wagon. After Caine was half in, Jerry went 
around to the front of the wagon and pulled him up, bringing most of his 
body into the small wagon.  Putting the back railing back on, Jerry left 
Caine’s knees and feet dangle over the railing.
	"There, you sure ain’t light mister, but lets go. The only thing 
to worry about is Buffalo Hill. But I’ll make sure you make it down okay."  
Picking up the handle, the two began the trip down the street. 
	After a few blocks, Jerry stopped at the top of Buffalo Hill. 
Looking down, it wasn’t a steep hill, just long and swift. Picking the 
handle up again, he slowly proceeded down. The wagon began to instantly 
pick up speed, crashing into Jerry’s legs.
	"Ow, stop that you stupid wagon." he yelled at the wagon as it 
crashed into him again. Moving to the side of the wagon, the handlebar 
knocked Caine in the head at the change in position. Looking back behind 
him, Jerry saw a police crusier cross a street they had just passed.
	"Whew, that was close."  
	Not paying attention, he suddenly smacked into a parked car.  
Instantly, the car alarm started, blaring the horn and flashing its lights.  
Jerry screamed and let go of the handlebar.
	With no one controlling it, the wagon quickened its pace down the 
hill, rolling swiftly down the macadam road. Jerry started to chase it, 
but gave up as he saw it disappear into the darkness, seen only when the 
wagon and its passenger rolled under a sporadic streetlamp.
	Jerry sighed, "good-bye, my friend. Watch out for cars." Turning, 
he walked over to a bus shelter and waited for the bus.

*        *       *      *       *         *      *

	"Did you find anything else Peter?" Jody asked, turning from the 
Buddhist alter. 
	Peter shook his head, "no, just this one syringe. I gave it to TJ 
to take to the labs."  Sighing he went over mentally anything he might have 
missed.
	Sensing this, Jody asked, "where do you think he might have gone?  
Did you call the hospital yet?  Or do you think he might have gone over to 
Lo Si’s?"
	"The hospital didn’t have him and Lo Si is staying with his niece 
for the weekend.  I can’t help but feel we’re missing something basic. Any 
idea what that might be?" he asked, directed at the two black-clad figures 
handcuffed on the floor.
	Looking at one another, the would-be kidnappers just shrugged.  
	Calmly, Peter knelt down in front of them. "I have an idea that 
might save me a lot of hassles. Where were you going to take my father?"
	The one man sniffed and replied, "can’t tell you that. Right now, 
you got nothing on us that says we did anything to your old man. Law says 
we’ve got rights and can’t be held without proof."
	"Well, it just so happens that I represent those sets of laws, and 
the law says I can hold you under suspicion. And not only that, if either 
of you has any fingerprints on the needle and my father’s blood matches the 
blood on the syringe, than just maybe you might go to jail, all thanks to 
those very same laws. Now, tell me what I want to know and maybe I can go a 
little easy on you."
	The two seemed to debate it, wondering if the detective was bluffing. 
Deciding he wasn’t, the heavier one cracked. "We were asked to bring in 
Kwai Chang Caine for a large amount of money. Eddie and I are two of the 
best kidnappers there are. Except with this one. Well, you might not believe 
it, but when we carried you father down the stairs, and let me tell you he 
ain’t light, not fat, just solid.  We went to put him in the van and it was 
gone. Someone must have lifted it while we were upstairs doing the sting."
	Peter nodded listening, Jody just placed her hands on her hips, 
disbelieving.
	"Eddie and I was going to swipe a nearby parked Buick. Didn’t even 
have to pick it, the door was left unlocked. We threw him in the backseat 
and thats when you arrived. So we took off running."         
	"That awnsers some of my questions, now who hired you and where is 
my father?"
	The guy shrugged, "a Chinese guy by the name of Chan, said his 
boss wanted to try a different approach.  And as to where the old man is 
now," he shrugged again. 
	"Jody," Peter began, "call Kermit to see if we can find that car.  
I remember seeing it when I pulled in. Its a light blue Buick LeSabre"
	Jody folded her arms under her breasts. "Peter, there must be at 
least five dozen types exactly like that.  You don’t happen to remember a 
license plate do you?" 
	"As a matter of fact, I do, cutiepie."
	"That’s not funny, Peterpoo"
	Peter laughed, "thats the license plate, cutiepie."  
	"Oh."

	A few minutes later, Jody’s cell went off and Kermit’s gruff voice 
harassed her on the other line. After ending the brief conversation, she 
walked over to where Peter was, examining the Buddhist alter. "Peter, Kermit 
hit a match. The Buick belongs to Ethal Balte, on West Sycamore." 
	Peter nodded, and the two left the room, leaving the two would-be 
kidnappers and two officers getting ready to take them in.

	Glancing at his watch, the dial glowed 12:14.  Peter turned off 
the stealth’s engine and got out of the car.  He heard Jody’s door slam 
shut as they both walked to the front door of the small house.  Numerous 
rose bushes guided their path as they came to the door. Knocking quickly, 
Peter waited. 
	No awnser, so he knocked again. A light finally went on in one of 
the bedrooms.
	The porchlight came on and the door was cracked open. "Hello?" 
asked an older woman’s voice.
	"I hate to disturb you ma’am, I’m Detective Peter Caine and this 
is my partner, Detective Jody Powell.  We are wondering where your car is? 
And if anyone unusual was around it."
	"Oh my, just a minute, let me get my sister."  
	Peter waited until another woman came to the door. She opened it 
wide and Peter guessed she just went to bed. She had a light blue robe on 
and curlers in her hair.
	"Why officers, how may I be of service to you?" she asked in a 
velvety voice.
	"We are looking for a man that might have been placed in your car.  
Have you seen him?  He’s half Chinese, in his late fifties..."
	"Oh my," Martha looked down.
	"Have you seen him?"
	"You promise not to arrest me if I tell you where he is?" 
	Peter sighed, was his father really inside with them? "Alright, 
I won’t arrest you. Now tell me where my father is."
	"Well, he’s not here."
	Peter mentally groaned.
	"Ethal hit him on the head with a frying pan after he woke up. 
We didn’t know what to do with him then, so we took him down by the bar on 
31st and Bree."
	Shaking his head, Peter muttered under his breath before asking, 
"why didn’t you call the police or something?"
	Batting her eyes innocently, Martha replied, "because we didn’t 
think the police would take us seriously. We were thinking of keeping him 
for awhile, but Ethal wouldn’t let me."
	Peter walked away muttering, feeling a bad headache coming on at 
this strange game of 'seek the Shaolin.' 

	The bar lights were still flashing their messages as Peter and Jody 
walked in from outside.  After circling the building, they found no traces 
of his father.  
	Once inside the building, its dim lights and darkwood chairs and 
tables were half full. Scattered couples and groups were enjoying the 
evening. Going up to the bar, Peter waited as the bartender, a slim man 
with a rat face, came over to him.  
	Eyeing him warily, he said, "you’re a cop. What are you doing in 
here?"
	Feeling the hostility from the man, Peter thought it best to get 
right to the point. "I’m looking for a man, probally came by earlier. 
Around late fifties, grey hair, half-Chinese. Would have a bruise possibly 
on his head. You see him?
	"No."
	"Well, two ladies claimed they dropped him off outside here, about 
45 minutes ago. Anyone else besides you, think they saw him?"
	Again, "no."
	Peter was about to ask another question, when Jody poked him in 
the ribs. Nodding, he saw that she was warning him of the man approaching 
them. Stumbling up, he gave them both an evil eye.
	"Cops ain’t welcome here, you pigs."
	Raising his hands in a sign of peace, Peter replied, "we are just 
looking for a man, my father to be precise. Any help would be appreciated."
	"Yellowbelly cowards, you are. Like to beat up old drunks. Thats 
what you call justice. Why, Jerry was asking me earlier about it. Told him 
of what happened to me by some of you so called peacekeepers. I went out to 
talk to him somemore, and he was kneelen by some guy outside. I come in to 
tell Jack here," he nodded at the barkeep. "And go back outside and they 
was gone. All I saw was a police car driving away." He made a fist at them. 
"If Jerry’s hurt..."
	"Wait," Peter interjected, "who’s this Jerry?" 
	"What do you care! He’s Jerry Rema. A fine man. Lived in this city 
all his life. Lives by his mamma’s on Catherine Street, just to take care 
of her. That’s who Jerry is."  As if he finished a great oration, he took a 
large gulp from the glass the bartender had placed before him.  
	Disgusted, Peter left the bar, Jody right behind him.

	Catherine Street wasn’t well marked, but the two detectives found 
Jerry Rema easy enough. He was sitting outside drinking beer on his porch.
	Walking up the three stairs to him, Peter began, "Jerry Rema, I’m 
Detective Peter Caine. Did you see a man outside of the bar tonight?"
	Cringing as if trapped, Jerry cried, "I didn’t mean to do it, I ran 
into the car and it just started rolling. I tried to catch it, honest."
	"Wait, what the hell are you talking about?  Where is he."
	"I was going to take him home with me, cuz he was really out of it. 
So I put him in a wagon I found. When I got to the top of Buffalo Hill, 
I ran into a car, and it just kept rolling down the hill.  You ain’t gonna 
hurt me now are ya?"
	"No, good police don’t hurt people, and if one ever does, you call 
me."  Peter handed Jerry his card and left.


*        *           *            *            *

		  
	Maria threw her cigarette onto the sidewalk, then crushed it out 
with her left black pump.  Re-adjusting her dress strap, she quickly walked 
back over to where her friend was standing. Scantily dressed as well, both 
were creatures of the night, but whether they were prey of predators, she 
could never figure out.  
	"I don’t care what you do with him," said a man talking to her 
friend, a man of the streets as well, a homeless one. "I just want the 
wagon."
	A few minutes ago, while she was minding her own business, they had 
heard a rattling coming down the hill. A wagon rolled down and crashed into 
the bushes surrounding the small park across from them. They discovered an 
unconscience man in it. Not knowing how or why he was like that, Maria 
doubted if she really wanted to know. Sometimes knowing something you 
shouldn’t brought a person bad luck, even deadly luck.  
	She was a hooker, but didn’t consider herself a full-time one. She 
only did it when things got bad and she couldn’t meet the bills on time. 
And this week was one of those weeks when Uncle Sam had taken too much out 
of her check and her boss had cut her hours, both often did her in.
	Staring at the man in the wagon, she felt sorry for him, he looked 
like he had lived a rough life too. Many lines engraved his features, and 
his grey hair held no remnant of the darker color it must have been in his 
younger days. He looked about late fifty-ish, but still muscular, age not 
quite doing him in yet.  
	A blaring car horn brought her starkly out of her thoughts as the 
car drove on, just wanting to harass them. Turning back to her friend, the 
problem she was dwelling on before he had come rumbling down the hill came 
back.  
	"What are we going to do about Mike Russo?"
	Her friend sighed, "I think we should just move to another spot. 
We aren’t regulars, so we don’t need to be treated like one.  But we also 
don’t have anyone to stand up for us. A pimp like Russo will just beat the 
crap outta us when we don’t wantta hook. I say we just move and keep moving 
so another pimp won’t be able to claim us."
	Maria bit her lip, she always bit her lip when she was nervous or 
worried. Glancing at the unconscience man, she wondered if he could help 
them somehow.
	"You know what you need," said Hank, the homeless man, "you needs 
yourselves a pimp that Russo don’t know about. Russo’s a coward and if you 
confront him, he’ll run like a dog with its tail ‘tween its knees." He 
laughed at imagining the sight.
	"Yeah, but that’s just it, we don’t want a pimp. We just want Russo 
to leave us alone.
	"Aw, honey, you don’t need to have a real pimp, just a fake one 
with lots of fire power."
	"And who do you suppose is going to be the pimp? You’re too dirty 
and half drunk to be one. And besides, Russo knows everyone who lives 
around here, he makes it his business. He knows no one will help us against 
him. I say we just leave."
	Maria, quietly listening to the conversation, glanced down at the 
comatose man. Sudden inspiration hit her.
	"Hey Cassy, does Brad over on 55th still have that Lincoln and his 
old army gun collection?"
	"I think so."
	"Good, I have an idea."
	Hank laughed, "well thats all good, but can I still have the wagon?"

	Adjusting her dress strap again, Maria impatiently waited for 
Russo’s black limousine.  Glancing over across the street, was a vacant 
parking lot next to the grounds of the local college. Only one car was 
parked there, facing her. She could see the stranger they had found earlier 
that night. They put a fancy coat on him and a hat, something fedora-ish, 
she didn’t know hats very well. No one could see he was actually 
unconscience, but he gave the appearance of watching them all the same. Her 
friend Brad was in the driver’s seat, waiting for his cue. Russo would be so 
surprised, she giggled to herself.
	"Stop that, or you’ll give it away." Cassy said. The two of them 
watched and waited.
	A few minutes later, the black limo came crusing down the street, 
stopping just before interrupting their view to the Lincoln.  As expected, 
Maria watched a thin black man get out of the car.  Dressed in a deep 
maroon suit, Russo came swaggering over to them.  Maria was privately 
disgusted at the sight, although her skin was a dark as his, they were 
nothing alike.      	 
	Stopping just in front of them, he put his hands on his hips and 
finally spoke, "well ladies, I see you came to the right decision in being 
one of my girls. You need to learn a few rules first, but you’re both young 
and bright, not to mention, whoreworthy."  He laughed at his own joke. 
Maria just frowned, her stomach turning in pity for the girls he already 
had in his 'business.'
	Cassy gave him a scathing glance, "You’re too late, you pompous 
jackass. We got ourselves a pimp, one who be fair, and treat us right. 
So why don’t you get back into your little car and leave us alone." She 
hissed the last part, but Russo didn’t seem to be understanding.
	Like they were a chastised child, he shook his head, "You both know 
better than lying to me, there ain’t no better pimp in the area but me. You 
two know that. Now I gave you both a warning, and unless you wanna get hurt, 
you’re gonna do as I say."
	"No, we’re not." Spoke Maria, surprised at her own courage. "If you 
don’t believe us, just look behind you, Russo. He’s there watching us right 
now, waiting for you to make wrong move."
	Snickering, but with less certainty than before, Russo turned and 
noticed the Lincoln parked behind him.  And he noticed the two people in it.
	"They ain’t nothing I can’t handle."  Russo said, but Maria felt 
like he had lost some of his confidence. With a nod from her head, Brad 
began to get out of the car.
	"Now you’ve made him mad." said Cassy, "see, now he might want to 
have a little talk. Better leave while you still can."
	Brad, already an impressively large size, reached in and pulled out 
a shotgun. Seeing that, Russo walked back to his limo.  
	"This ain’t over." He hissed, then got in and drove away.
	Maria could hardly believe it, watching their tormentor drive away 
from them without much of a fight. Huh, I guess he was all talk afterall, 
Maria thought, her spirits rising. 
	As soon as the limo turned the corner, Cassy gave out a loud yell 
and hugged her. Brad came over and all three of them could hardly believe it.
	"Do you think he’ll bother us again?" Maria asked.
	Frowning, Cassy glanced where the limo disappeared to. "He might, 
but I hope to be outta the trade by then, maybe even outta the city."
	Maria nodded in agreement. "What do we do with the man we found?" 
She looked over at the car.
	"Lets set him on one of the benches on the school grounds. Someone 
will likely find him and know what to do with him. Or else he might wake up 
and wonder home."
	The three of them got the man out of the car. Removing the coat and 
hat, they laid him on a bench. Then they moved into the shadows to keep 
watch over him in case something happened.
	After watching awhile, Brad and Cassy left, leaving Maria alone. 
As soon as they were gone, Maria heard voices coming down the street. Hiding 
alongside the building, she watched two guys stumble over to the bench.  
After a moment, each took an arm of her new friend and headed towards the 
dorms. Maria watched them go in with the man. Not knowing what to do, she 
sat on the bench and waited for Cassy to return.

*            * 
       
	"Man, what are we going to do to mess with Mentzer’s mind?" 
	A tall, dark brown haired guy shrugged his shoulders in reply. 
"I don’t know, since he got us with the empty keg thing, we gotta get him 
with something as equally mean."
	"I know Chris," the first guy said, also tall, but a little heavier. 
"What about if we told some girls he slept with a teddy bear?"
	"Nah, they’d probally think its cute."
	The two walked over to the campus, passing by a few benches. Coming 
back from a night out, the two slowly made their way to the dorms.
	"I got an idea Mat, what if we, hey, why’s this guy laying on the 
bench."  The two stopped by the comatose man. "Check his pulse." said Chris.
	"No way, what if he’s dead, then my fingerprints would be on him.  
Besides, you’re the med student. You check his pulse." 
	"Mat, you’re such a baby."
	"Am not."
	Chris bent down and put his fingers on Caine’s neck. "Good news, 
our friend here is alive, and smelling like brandy. I think he’s just drunk."
	"Kinda like us."
	"Not quite, we can still move. What do you think we should do with 
him?"
	"We could call campus police." Chris crossed his arms in a 
philosophical position, odd since he was in a Hawaiian shirt and baggie 
khaki pants. Suddenly brightening, "I have a better idea, lets bring him 
back to the dorms..."
	Mat started laughing as they formed a plan. 

	Scot Mentzer was tired, three tests in one week were a killer in the 
pre-med program. Coming up to his room, he saw Mat and Chris standing in 
the hall. They were his two slackey roommates. He could tell they were up 
to something, probally getting him back for the keg joke. He smiled, the 
look on their faces with the empty keg.  
	Closing the door on their small room, he could see the set of bunk 
beds off to the one side and the single bed on the other. A computer 
occupied the space in front of the window, obscuring the light. Setting his 
books on the desk with the computer, he quickly switched it on and sat down.  
Closing his eyes, he listened to the familiar hum of the contraption. 
	A faint rustle brought his eyes open. Looking around the room, he 
saw a lump under his covers, his single bed seemed to have someone in it.  
He sighed, those immature brats, when I get my hands on them, he imagined 
the scene.
	"Alright, I don’t know who you are," he said to the lump, "but 
please leave. I have lots of work to do." He pulled back the covers. 
	"What the hell..."  
	An older man was in his bed, passed out, probally drunk. Mentzer went 
into a string of curses in what the other two had done. 
	Sitting down at the computer chair, he studied the old man, 
wondering how to get him out of there.  His friends had laid him on his side 
and Mentzer could see his arm half hanging over the bed.  
	Mentzer stopped, there was some sort of burn scars on the man’s arms. 
 etting a closer look, he saw that it was a burn in the shape of a tiger.  
Pushing the man over, he examined the other arm. The brand of the dragon was 
there. Who the hell is he, Mentzer thought.  Thinking deeply, he had taken 
some karate when he was in high school.  He vaguely remembered a friend 
saying something about some monks who could do weird mind over body tricks, 
and they would even brand themselves with the tiger and dragon symbols.  
	Kung Fu, Shaolin monks, that’s what the man was, a Shaolin monk. But 
what was he doing in his dorm room?
	Mentzer sighed. A beep from his computer broke his thoughts. New 
mail, maybe that might help him think.
	Logging on, there was a new bid on his video games he had put up 
for sale. More money to buy more games. And that was something he was short 
of, money, college bills were expensive enough. Selling things on ebay 
helped a little.  
	Glancing again at the comatose stranger, Mentzer cracked a smile.  
I wonder, he thought while logging back on to ebay.

*      *      *       *       *        *         *

	Parked at the bottom of Buffalo Hill, Peter and Jody had seen no 
signs of a wagon. And no one else was out to ask if they had seen anything.  
Coming to rest at his car, he watched Jody tiredly amble over.
	"I don’t know about you, but he sure knows how to disappear." Said 
Jody, sitting next to him on the stealth.  "And do you even believe this 
Jerry guy?  I mean, what if your father woke up and went home?"
	Shaking his head, "I asked Mary Margaret to call me if my father 
returns home. I have the feeling he was here.
	"Well, maybe you could use it to track him."
	Peter grimaced.  "My father may be able to do that, but I can’t. At 
least not yet."
	Sitting quietly in the night, a rumble began to grow louder, and 
someone yelling. Jumping off the car, the rumble got louder, and Peter 
thought he heard someone yelling "weeeeeeeee."
	Soon enough, a little red wagon came flying down the hill. Only 
thing was, the person in it wasn’t his father. It was a homeless man.
	Peter watched the man crash into the bushes, laughing. Taking the 
handle, he turned around and started walking back up the hill.
	"Wait," called Peter, jogging over to the man. "Where’d you get this 
wagon?"
	The man paused unsure of how he was to awnser. 
	"You won’t get into trouble, I just want to know where the man that 
was in the wagon is now."
	"Oh, yeah, the unconscience dude. He was taken three blocks over to 
help Maria and Cassy out of a little problem."
	"Which way?"
	The man pointed, "go to the corner of that street and up three 
blocks. They should be across from the college."
	"Did the man seem alright?" asked Jody, standing alongside Peter.
	The man paused a moment. "Other than the fact he was out cold, he 
seemed okay."
	"Thanks."  With that, Peter slipped the guy a twenty and got into 
the car.
	As soon as Peter pulled into the lot by the campus, it was obvious 
that no one was around.
	Peter swore when he got out. "Well where is he?" he asked Jody and 
no one in particular. Walking around, he examined the area, just a vacant 
parking lot with benches on the side, vacant as well.
	Turning quickly, he walked back to the car. Okay Peter, lets calm 
down, he thought. What would my father do? He was at a loss on that one. 
Well his police training will have to do.  When coming to a crime scene, 
what do you do?  Scan the perimeter. Peter studied his surroundings. When 
observing the buildings, he saw her.  A dark skinned woman was hiding in the 
doorway across from him. Dressed rather scantily, he guessed she was a 
hooker. Still, she might have been one of the people the whino had mentioned.
	Coming towards her, he saw her nervously move. "Don’t move," he 
yelled. "I’m officer Detective Peter Caine and I just want to ask you a few 
questions."  Jody moved behind him, just as worried as he was.
	The girl waited for him to come over. She was pretty, but had the 
look of one who had to grow up fast.  Her dress was a dark red, with the 
one strap slipped to the side.  
	Peter showed his badge. "I just want to ask you a few questions. 
A homeless man down the street said that he and two women had found a man 
in a wagon."  He looked into her eyes, they were too dark to read. "And we 
need to find him."
	She eyed them both up and down warily, deciding. "Why?"
	"He’s my father and started out kidnapped."
	Jody chimed in, "and now we’ve tracked him here. Have you seen him?  
We're here to help him." She felt as if she had to say that, the girl was 
defensive about Caine and probally wouldn’t tell them anything if she had 
sensed hostility from either of them.
	The girl nodded, "I feel as if you be good people. The man helped 
my friend and me out of a little problem." Almost as an afterthought, she 
added, "even though he was unconscience."
	"What do you mean?" Jody asked.
	The girl beamed at the memory. "Well, my friend and I were being 
harassed by this pimp that usually controls this area. He was trying to get 
us in on it, but we didn’t wanna go. When Hank, he’s the homeless guy, 
Cassy and I were standing around, we hears this rumbling and a wagon comes 
down and crashes into the bushes. We check and see that he’s alive. Then we 
talk and decide to use him to help us against this pimp guy, named Russo."  
She laughed as if remembering something funny.
	Peter smiled, wondering where this story was leading.
	"What we do next was to get another friend to help us, and he has 
some guns, legal too.  But we dressed your father up in this pimp-like coat 
that Cassy’s boyfriend has. We stuck him in the front seat of Brad’s lincoln. 
We told that bad-ass Russo that we now have a pimp and he ain’t to happy 
with Russo harassing us in stuff.  Brad got out of the car with a shot gun 
and Russo left faster than it taking me to tell you this."  She laughed 
"after it was all over, we took the coat back and laid your father on the 
bench by the campus."  Satisfied with her story, she waited for them to 
reply.
	Peter sighed, his father, a pimp?  "Ok, but where is he now?" He 
glanced at the vacant park benches.
	"That part I was coming too. Cassy and Brad went to get some food. 
I stayed behind to make sure he was alright. What happened was that two 
college boys came along and picked him up and took him back to the dorms."
	"Can you describe them?"  asked Jody.
	"Sure can, the one’s tall and in a red sweatshirt that has some 
football team on it. The other one’s kinda heavy and in a Hawaiian shirt and 
baggy pants. They went to the first dorm on the left."
	Peter thanked her and started walking away, stopping quickly, he 
called back to her. "The man who helped you, he could help you even more 
when he’s awake. When you want to get out of this life, just come to 
Chinatown and ask for Caine."
	The girl mutely nodded as Peter and Jody walked to the first dorm 
on the left. Peter glanced at his watch before entering.  It was just after 
two am. He had been up at six and the lack of sleep was beginning to make 
itself known. 
	"Getting tired?" Jody asked, as she banged on the locked dorm door.
	"That obvious?"
	She smiled, "well, I guess our college days of staying up late and 
partying are over."
	"I hope not."
	The door opened with a young man sticking his head out asking who 
they were.  Jody awnsered the shaggy haired guy and described the people 
they were looking for, but not why.  The man nodded and let them in.  
	"Its a late night party night, finals start in two weeks, so 
everyone is getting the party energy out."  he said while leading them to a 
larger room where music was coming from. "There’s no beer or anything in 
there, so you guys don’t need to be suspicious. And I’m sure Matt and Chris 
didn’t do anything illegal, so be fair."
	Peter felt suspicious of underage drinking when he heard the music 
blaring from outside.  Coming into the room, he saw a number of people 
dancing and just hanging out. He and Jody received unfriendly stares from a 
number of the people.  Seeing the two people they were after by the window, 
he went over and pulled them out into the hall. 
	"I’m Detective Caine and this is Detective Powell. Where is the man 
you two took from the bench earlier this night?"
	"Oh man, it was his idea." The heavier one pointed to his friend. 
	"Shut up, what are you talking about?  What man?"
	Peter was not in the mood to put up with this. "The man that someone 
saw you and your friend take from the bench outside earlier tonight. Now 
stop playing games or I will bring you in for kidnapping. And since I smell 
beer on your breath, underage drinking."
	The taller one grimaced, "we thought it would be funny to use him 
for a joke on a friend. We brought him back with us and put him in his bed.  
It was supposed to be a joke."
	"Well, not all jokes are funny, especially jokes where someone could 
get hurt. Now where is he?"
	"In room 203."
	Satisfied, Peter said, "you lead." 
	
	Opening the door with an electronic keycard, the taller kid went in. 
"Hey Mentzer, where’s the guy we put into your bed?"
	Peter saw another student sitting in front of a computer screen.
	"What do you mean?" he asked.
	"Mentzer, these are cops looking for him, now what did you do with 
him?"
	"Oh shit." Mentzer looked at Peter and Jody. "I didn’t think anybody 
would come for him. And when I checked my ebay listing, I got curious.  
He is a Shaolin monk, right?"
	Peter nodded, getting angry at the situation. "Where is he now?"
	Mentzer glanced at the computer quickly, "you just missed him, I 
really didn’t think anybody would buy him, I just thought it would be funny 
if..."
	"Let me get this strait," broke in Jody. "You sold him on ebay?"
	The kid nodded.
	"Great, just perfect. What’s the address?" Jody asked.
	"She didn’t leave one.  But I think she said she was staying at some 
fancy hotel downtown. All I have is her name." He handed over a check. "She 
wrote me a check."
	Sighing, Peter debated whether or not he would arrest the kid. Being 
too tired, he decided not to. "Listen you three. We are not going to bring 
any charges up on you, but we are going to volunteer you in the homeless 
shelter for awhile.  Maybe you’ll learn some common sense.  My partner is 
going to give you a sheet of paper, write your names and ages on it.  We’ll 
let you know where to help out at."
	Jody gave them her small notebook that she always carried. Each of 
them wrote their names in it. As soon as that was completed, Peter dialed 
Kermit’s number, hoping he could find the woman’s location in the city.

 *        *         *       *        *          *

	The doorman looked at him funny as he parked his stealth in the 
pick-up/drop-off only space.  
	"Uh, sir, you can’t park there." He said, not moving from his 
position by the door.
	Not caring, Peter flipped his badge and walked in through the 
lobby to the elevators. Jody unzipped her coat as the two waited for them 
to open. After a ping, they opened. He and Jody were the only ones in the 
mirrored box.
	"Peter," Jody began, "shouldn’t we have asked the deskman if that 
was the room number the woman is in?"
	Shaking his tired head, even his hair was tired, Peter stifled a 
yawn. "No, I have the feeling he’s here. But the question is, do we arrest 
her?"
	Sighing, that was a question bouncing around in her head too.  
"What for, kidnapping and confinement? We don’t know exactly her plans for 
your father.  And if we do arrest her, will he help us any? He might just 
want to let this slide and forget about it."
	That was what he figured too. Peter felt the elevator come to a stop 
and let them out. Glancing at the numbers, he followed the arrows that 
pointed towards the room he wanted. The soft, rose-colored plush carpet 
stifled his and Jody’s footfalls, as cream-colored wall paper made an 
attempt to cheer them up. A few plants and tables littered the hallway as 
well. He thought the plants looked a little underwatered.
	"Peter, we’re here." Jody stopped in front of the door, waiting for 
her partner to suggest their next move.
	He pounded on the door, "Open up, police." 
	After a few seconds, he pounded again. The door remained shut. 
	"I’m going to go back downstairs and get the manager to open the 
door." Jody turned to leave but stopped, a faint click was heard from the 
door, along with the rattle of another being undone. Then slowly, the door 
was pulled open.
	Peter stared into the eyes of his father. Tired eyes met tired eyes, 
each silent at the reuniting.  Peter noticed a darkening bruise on Caine’s 
forehead, but then something else caught his attention more.  
	"Pop, we’ve been all over searching for you, are you alright? And 
why are you wrapped in a blanket?"
	Opening the door further, he ushered both of them in. The room was 
lavishly decorated in the rose-cream color that the hallway was. The tv sat 
silent with a closed suitcase nearby. The bathroom door was shut. Peter let 
his eyes roam to the bed and it was fairly rumpled. One blanket was missing 
from the bed, he guessed that was the one his father had wrapped around 
himself.  But that still didn’t answer his questions.  
	"Where is she, Pop?"
	"In the bathroom."
	"Do you remember anything? Like how you got here?" Peter watched his 
father reach up a hand and massage his temple.
	"No, all I recall is waking up here. The woman, she has blonde hair, 
but I am not sure of her name."
	"Why the blanket?"
	His father looked down at his feet. "I do not know where my clothes 
are."
	Peter bit his tongue to keep from laughing.  That must be something 
hard to admit to your son, he thought. Just as he was about to reply, the 
closed door opened, admitting a stunning blonde.  Peter’s jaw nearly dropped, 
she seemed to have the perfectly curved body every man wanted in a woman. 
And she was dressed in a short black and red night gown too.
	Stopping just outside the door, she crossed her arms, in a defensive 
but amused stance.  "What do you think you’re doing with my Shaolin priest?"  
She asked in a thick Swedish accent.
	"Easy, its called kidnapping and involuntary confinement." Jody said 
to the woman, both wary of each other.
	"I bought and paid for him fairly. Its no different than buying a 
mail order bride."
	Jody pulled out the check that the woman had given to the student.  
"The difference is that the brides choose to be married off. Caine was 
unconscience when you bought him."  
	"I was going to let him go when I left the city to return home.  
I seriously doubt he minds being with me for a few days. Isn’t that right?" 
She glared directly at Caine.
	He just stared at the floor, blank expression on his face.
	"Where are his clothes?" Peter suddenly asked.
	The woman straightened.  "In the bathroom.  I washed them since they 
smelled like brandy. They are still wet."
	Peter sighed. "Alright, put them in a bag for me and you might want 
to cut your visit short. We are going to let you go, but never do this again, 
or you will be arrested."
	The woman stubbornly stared him down before turning swiftly and 
going back into the bathroom. She came out a few seconds later with Caine’s 
clothes in one of the hotels trash bags. Giving them to Peter, she retreated 
back to the bathroom door.
	"Well Pop, we have no other clothes for you, so you’ll just have to 
stay wrapped up in the blanket. Lets go."
	Jody was the first one out the door.  Peter followed, debating if 
he wanted to give the woman his card, just in case.  With a body like that, 
why not?	
	Lastly came Caine, dragging his feet. He had awaken to find a 
beautiful blonde woman doting on him, isn’t that one of every man’s dreams?  
Even a priest could dream sometimes, not ever realizing that a dream could 
come true. Stopping at the door, he waved good-bye, ending something that 
might have been fun. Then, he followed his son and Jody to the elevator, 
blanket dragging desolatly along the floor. 
	Once in the elevator, Peter started laughing. "So Pop, you have no 
recollection of where you’ve been tonight?"
	Caine gave his son a sidelong glance.
	"Tomorrow, we’ll sit down and I’ll tell you of your adventures 
unconscience.  How’s that sound?" 
	Caine just stared at the elevator buttons, wondering if he really 
wanted to know, and thinking of a beautiful blonde woman.  Walking out 
through the lobby wrapped in a blanket, he decided he didn’t want to know, 
but figured Peter would tell him anyhow.  
	Maybe after Peter had dropped him off, he’d wonder back to the hotel 
and find out more about his buyer.





		The End