HE SAID ALWAYS...HE SAID NEVER

A KF:TLC/Due South Crossover
by Amparo Bertram
 
Kwai Chang Caine had an unusual visitor.
 
 ...Which, for Caine, was nearly an everyday occurrence. He took
in his guest's unique appearance and story without a second thought.
His only words were, "Are you certain?"
 
The insubstantial visitor nodded, the brim of his hat bobbing with the
movement. "I'm sure. It's him."
 
Caine sighed. The candle flame on the floor before him flickered  but
did not go out. "You did well to come to me. I will see that  he is taken
care of."
 
"Alone?" The apparition narrowed his piercing eyes. "I know you have
quite reputation, but between you and me, you're still  human." He regarded
Caine solemnly with a face coarsened by years of exposure to the harsh
northern climate.
 
Caine signaled his acquiescence with a shrug. "I will ask...my son."

The visitor smiled, pleased. "And I will ask mine."
 ***
 Kermit sat at his computer, typing a response to a recent emai
message from one of his contacts.
 
 
He grinned fiercely as he signed and sent the message. Siren was
a cyberpal of his; he'd never met her in person. She had a quick wit
and tended to flirt like her namesake, but recently she had been
reserved and depressed. He had finally managed to pry out of her the
story of her dear friend who had been betrayed and his life almost destroyed
by the woman he loved, an unrepentant criminal and 
murderess. The devious woman had evaded capture and now Kermit
was doing his part to bring her to justice.
 
He flexed his fingers and prepared to tackle another letter when Peter
Caine charged into his office, closing the door behind him. 
"Do you remember Bon Bon Hai?" he burst out.
 
Kermit cocked his head and regarded his friend from behind twin circles
of cool green glass. "How could I forget? When the minister of the Dark
Warrior trashes your office, it doesn't just slip your mind."
 
"I don't know how--I don't think I *want* to know how--but my father
found him."
 
That made the ex-mercenary sit up straight in his chair.  "Did he poke
his nose back into Chinatown?"
 
"Well, not exactly." Peter grimaced. "He's in *a* Chinatown.  Chicago's
Chinatown, to be precise."
 
"That's a bit out of our jurisdiction."
 
"Not my father's. He's planning on leaving for Chicago as soon as possible
before Bon Bon Hai can cause any major trouble. He asked  me to help
him, but I had to tell him I couldn't come.  Captain Simms will never
grant me leave for that, especially since we didn't give her the whole
truth about what happened the last time, when I was taken to Shambhala."
 
"So what do you want me to do about it?"
 
Peter shook his head. "That's just it. When I said I couldn't  join him,
he flashed me that enigmatic smile of his and told me he would take care
of it and that I should prepare you as well. He's got something up his
sleeve."  
Kermit stood abruptly and headed for the door. Peter caught his arm as
he went past, asking, "Hey, where are you going?"
 
"Home to pack. If your father says we're going to Chicago..." He  smiled.
"We're going to Chicago."

Ray Vecchio was heartily enjoying the supper his friend had ordered for
them.  "This sure beats hospital food, huh, Fraser?"
 
The addressed officer of the RCMP looked up from his plate and  raised
his eyebrows. "Indeed. It is evident that Mr. and Mrs. Lee  put a great
deal of care into the preparation of this meal." His napkin, as usual,
was tucked into his collar, though for once he wore casual clothes and
not his dress reds. His hat sat on the table by his left hand.
 
"Course they did," Ray said between mouthfuls, hoping to forestall a
point-by-point lecture on Chinese cuisine.  "They're grateful to us for
saving them from Charlie Wong."
 
"I'm sure the quality of the food is just as excellent for all of their
customers, Ray."  
"What customers? We're the only ones here--again."
 
Fraser paused, glancing around. Ray caught his 'I'm going to solve this
puzzle if it kills me' expression and slammed down his  fork. "Oh, no
you don't. We are going to have a nice, relaxed meal celebrating our
recovery, and we are *absolutely not*  getting involved in another case.
Do you hear me? Fraser?  Are you listening to me?"
 
Fraser returned his attention to his dining companion.  "Really, Ray,
I should think you would be more solicitous of our friends' well-being.
If the Lees are in trouble, it is our duty to help  them."
 
"No. No! Don't give me that look, Fraser, you know I hate that.  It's
not going to work this time. I mean it."
 
The Mountie's gaze never wavered.
 
Finally Ray could stand it no longer. "All right," he sighed.  "We'll
ask them--once! --if they need our help. Will that satisfy  you?"
 
"I knew I could count on you." He twisted around in his chair and  beckoned
the man of whom they had been speaking.
 
Henry Lee stopped by their table. "Is the food to your liking? Is  there
something else I can get for you?"
 
"The food is delicious, Mr. Lee," Fraser said with an amiable  smile.
"We were wondering why there were so few people here  tonight to enjoy
it. Is there a special event going on of which we are unaware?"
 
Mr. Lee shook his head. "No...nothing like that..."
 
Ray rolled his eyes. "What Benny's trying to say is, we want to  know
if someone's trying to shake you down again, and if there's  anything
we can do to help."
 
The restaurant owner didn't exactly blanch, but he did wince and clench
his hands together tightly. "There is a...visitor...in  town. A very
important man. That is all."
 
Fraser persisted. "Are you certain there is no trouble? We are more than
willing to do our part to keep this community safe. Who is this visitor?"

Mr. Lee shook his head. "Please, do not get involved. This is not  an
affair for the police. I cannot tell you anything more."
 
"But surely you know that you can trust us?"
 
Mr. Lee glanced around the room and hunched his shoulders.  "You do not
understand. It is not about trust, it is that I would not wish you hurt.
This man is too powerful for you, for anyone.  He has ways of finding
out things..." The thin man shuddered.
 
Ray had been reluctant to open the subject, but now, seeing the man's
fear, his cop instincts came to the fore. Something was terribly wrong
here, and they had to get to the bottom of it. He didn't protest as Fraser
leaned forward, eyes intense, his voice  shifting into persuasive mode.
"We will help you. Tell us the man's name."
 
Mr. Lee searched the room again and, finding nothing, acceded to  the
request. "Very well, because of the debt I owe you. His name is Bon Bon
Hai. But I warn you!" His whole body tensed with emotion. "Do not attempt
to find him! He would kill you as soon as look at you. He is pure evil."

"Mr. Lee, there is no one on earth who is pure evil." He caught Ray's
dubious expression and emphasized his point. "*No*one."
 
Their host uttered one final sentence before returning to the  kitchen.
"There is now."

"Bon Bon Hai," Ray muttered as he stood behind Elaine, watching her perform
a computer search. "That's not a name, that's a dessert."  
"Ray, please," Fraser said from his place at Elaine's right.
 
"Here it is," she announced with a final keystroke. "Bon Bon Hai, mentioned
once in a report from a Detective Peter Caine....Why does that name sound
oddly familiar?"
 
"Just read the file, Elaine."
 
She shot Ray an irritated glance. "He is highly skilled in martial arts
and--it says here--he stole a valuable ancient book.  He escaped before
the authorities could arrest him and hasn't been seen since. So, Fraser,
how did you like the stuffed beaver I got you?"
 
"It was very thoughtful of you--"
 
"Yeah," Ray interrupted, "and it goes great with the stuffed donkey you
got me. Now can we get back to the case?"
 
Elaine tapped a few more keys. "Hmm. This is interesting. He's 
red-flagged as extremely dangerous. 'Do not attempt to apprehend.'" 

"Come on," Ray scoffed, "the guy's a book thief. What could be so dangerous
about him?"
 
Unseen by either of the Chicagoans, Robert Fraser appeared, sitting on
the desk. His bright red Mountie uniform stood out brilliantly in the
drab surroundings of the precinct. "She's right," he commented. "This
one's too much for you to handle alone, Son."
 
"How do you know that?" Fraser asked his father.
 
"Okay, I admit, I don't know him personally," Ray answered, thinking
the question directed at him. He leaned over Elaine to  peer at the screen.
"But from what this says, he doesn'texactly seem like the special forces
type. I mean, I know Mr. Lee was spooked with all that evil nonsense,
but you said yourself he can't be *that* bad."
 
Robert Fraser grunted. "Shows what he knows. Look, Ben, you'll have to
trust me on this one. You need backup. Special backup.  Call in the man
who understands him, who can tell you all his weaknesses."
 
"You want me to call in Detective Caine?"
 
Both Ray and Elaine turned to look at their distracted friend. "Now why
would I want--" Ray began.
 
"That's a good idea!" Elaine exclaimed. Ray straightened up and glared
at her,  but she continued, undaunted. "I just remembered where I heard
his name. I correspond regularly over email with someone at his precinct.
From what he tells me, this Caine is a top-notch homicide detective and
he specializes in disturbances in Chinatown."
 
"Homicide?" Ray was suddenly serious. "Then why is he involved with this
guy with the overdue library book?"
 
"Well, we won't know until we ask, will we?" 

Kermit, Peter, and Peter's father were ushered into the squad room and
pointed toward the desk of the officer investigating the sighting of
Bon Bon Hai. The desk, when they found it, was orderly and yet cluttered,
with toys such as miniature basketballs and soccer balls scattered across
its surface. The officer himself, however, was not present.
 
Kermit looked around. "You two can wait until he comes back from his
lunch break if you want. There's someone here I've been meaning to meet.
If you'll excuse me..." With that, he wandered off into the general confusion.

Peter indicated the chair in front of the desk and offered it to his
father. "Would you like to sit? We don't know how long a wait it will
be."  
"No, thank you," Caine declined with a small shake of his head.  "I am
fine."
 
Just then they heard a voice raised above the background hubbub.  "Benny,
will you please tell that animal he is *not* getting any of my  sandwich?"
 
They turned toward the sound in time to catch the soft-voiced  reply.
"I'm sorry, Ray. I've tried discussing the problem with  him, but old
habits are hard to break."
 
The speakers came into view as they approached the desk, a slender man
in a bright blue and green silk shirt and, following him, a man wearing
the full dress uniform of an RCMP officer, complete with hat. Alongside
the two trotted a large, white dog,  which, upon closer inspection, appeared
to be more of a wolf.
 
The first man plopped into the chair behind the desk, carefully  holding
a wrapped sandwich out of the wolf's reach. He looked up  at the visitors.
"Can I help you?"
 
"You must be Detective Vecchio." Peter pulled out his ID briefly.  "I'm
Detective Peter Caine, and this is my father, Kwai Chang  Caine. You
called me in to help on the Bon Bon Hai case."
 
The Chicago cop looked back and forth between them. "I was
advised to ask for you and your computer specialist, Griffin. Why  is--"

Peter knew what the question would be before Ray uttered the rest of
the words and decided to set him straight right away.  "Griffin is here;
he's looking up a contact at the moment and will join us  later. My father
is an expert on various Chinese matters and Bon  Bon Hai in particular."

The Mountie frowned in concentration. "Kwai Chang Caine," he murmured.
"You wouldn't by chance be related to...?" He shook his  head before
receiving an answer. "No. Never mind."
 
Caine looked at him quizzically. "Related to whom?"
 
"When my grandparents were in China they heard a tale of a man with the
same name. A priest who moved to America after committing a crime." 

Caine gave a slight nod. "My grandfather."
 
"Oh." The Mountie widened his eyes. He and Ray exchanged glances.  "Oh,
I see." He made a fist, covered it with his other hand, and bowed. "Constable
Benton Fraser," he introduced himself. When the animal beside  him whined,
he added, "And this is my wolf, Diefenbaker."
 
The wolf barked a greeting. Caine looked surprised, then smiled, his
eyes lighting. "It is an honor to meet you, as well."
 
Ray cleared his throat. "This is all very nice, but can we get down to
business? We can socialize later." He focused on Peter.  "I've got a
restaurant owner in Chinatown who's scared to death because he claims
this Bon Bon Hai character is hanging around.  This man is a friend of
mine and I know for a fact that he doesn't scare easily. Now, I want
to hear what is so dangerous about your guy and why I was instructed
not to bring him in."  
Peter looked over at his father, but the Shaolin had gotten  deeply into
a Chinese conversation with Constable Fraser. He sat down on the empty
chair in front of Ray's desk and tried to decide how much of the truth
to tell. Ray watched him expectantly.
 
Peter took a deep breath and began. "Bon Bon Hai is a master of an aggressive
branch of martial arts. He has no compunctions about killing. He...believes...he
has been chosen by a creature  of evil known as the Dark Warrior to spread
its influence over  the earth."
 
Detective Vecchio rubbed his eyes. "Great. A nutcase. But he's new in
town, doesn't have a large following; he should be easy to  nab. Why
all the warning lights? To put it bluntly, why do we need you? Because,
to be honest, I've had *bad* experiences with  outsiders taking over
my cases."
 
Peter considered his next words carefully. He didn't want to be less
open than the other officer was being with him, but he also didn't want
to scare Ray off before he saw for himself the things of which his adversary
was capable. "He has--"  "--well-honed abilities. My father and
I have special training to handle people with these kinds of talents.
He could take unprepared policemen by surprise. We didn't want to see
anyone hurt."  
Ray leaned forward, hands flat on his desk, sandwich forgotten.  "All
right then. Prepare me."

Ray's determination impressed Peter. The Chicagoan truly desired to bring
the criminal to justice, even knowing that he was out of his league.
Perhaps he could be useful after all. He had the heart, and despite his
flashy exterior, he no doubt had the skill as well.
 
Then again, Peter didn't have the patience to teach the other man what
he needed to be a help rather than a nuisance when the time came to face
their opponent. Even now, the young Caine itched to get out on the streets
and protect the people in jeopardy.
 
But he had a natural teacher standing right next to him, one who had
a vast store of information about the powers the Dark Warrior could bestow
upon disciples and who would be able to protect himself and those near
him. "Hey, Pop--Dad," Peter called, breaking into his father's conversation.
"Why don't you team up with Detective Vecchio, in an advisory capacity.
He can show you around, you can show him... whatever becomes necessary."
 
The Shaolin ducked his head in agreement, but he remained puzzled. "What
will you be doing, my son?"
 
Peter leaned back in the chair, which shifted slightly but didn't creak.
"I thought I'd see the people in the community, make sure  they're in
no danger. Starting with the informant; if anyone is at risk, he's it."

The Mountie held up a finger to draw attention. "If I might interject,"
he began, the soul of politeness. "Mr. Lee put himself into a highly
precarious position by divulging to us the details we have since supplied
to you, and while I appreciate your obvious concern for his safety, I
am not entirely certain  that he will be quite as receptive to your presence,
especially if you press him for additional information on a subject which
you yourself have admitted may endanger him further."
 
Peter blinked, pointed to Fraser, and turned to look at Ray.  "Why is
he involved in this?"
 
The other officer grinned. "You have your father, I have my Mountie.
He comes with the deal."
 
"Fine." Peter slapped his hands on his knees to finalize the arrangement
and surged to his feet. "Constable, you're with me.  The informant trusts
you, and once you convince him I'm here to help, I should be able to
ease his fears."
 
"That sounds reasonable," Fraser agreed.
 
"All right, Pop, I'll see you later. We can meet at the hotel if we don't
turn up anything today. Oh, and don't challenge the forces of darkness
until I'm there to back you, okay?"
 
Caine shrugged, an innocent "Who, me?" expression blanking his
features.
 
"Dief, come on, let's go," Fraser commanded. He started forward, noticed
the wolf's conspicuous absence at his side, and stopped.  He deliberately
faced the recalcitrant animal. "Diefenbaker, we're leaving."
 
The wolf whined and turned to gaze adoringly up at Caine.  The Canadian
shook his head in disgust and strode on without a backward glance, indicating
that Peter should precede him to the  exit.
 
Peter worried about the consequences of leaving a wild animal behind
in a police station, though he felt sure his father could handle the
situation. "What was that all about?" he asked.  "Aren't you going to
bring him along?"
 
Fraser sighed. "He's just sulking because he isn't allowed inside the
restaurant. Besides, it seems he's found a new friend."
 
"My father? Yeah, he tends to have that effect on animals. And people."
They exited the building and he led the way to his car, in which the
three of them had driven to Chicago.
 
That thought made him freeze, one hand on the door handle.   "Kermit.
I can't believe I forgot Kermit."
 
Fraser looked over the top of the car at him. "You mean your computer
specialist?"
 
"Uh huh. He left us shortly before you arrived, said he wanted to find
one of his contacts."
 
"Ah. Elaine. In that case, unless I miss my guess, he has located her
by this time and the two of them are happily ensconced in front of a
computer screen."
 
"That is what we brought him for, isn't it?" He opened the door  and
settled behind the wheel. He watched the Mountie enter the passenger
side, removing the Stetson and setting it carefully on the dash before
fastening the seat belt. "Lead the way, Constable."
 
Ray scratched his neck and regarded his new, temporary, partner.  He
still could hardly believe that Benny had heard of this guy's  grandfather--but
then, he figured Benny probably knew pretty much  everything by now,
especially anything related to crime fighting.  The older man returned
his stare calmly and seemed in no hurry to  start things rolling. Ray
came to the immediate conclusion that  he would have to be the instigator
if he intended to accomplish  anything.  
"Your son tells me you have the inside track on this Bon Bon Hai.  I'm
ready to take him down, you just point me in the right  direction." 

"We must go to Chinatown."
 
"Okaaaay, then what?"
 
Caine shrugged. "I will know more when I see the extent of  his
...influence."
 
"Do you have a destination planned? Or do you want me to drive 
around until you find some bent twigs and used gum wrappers?"
 
"I beg your pardon?"
 
"Never mind. It's a Mountie thing." He stood.
 
"Ah...no, I have no specific destination."
 
"We'll play it by ear, then. Come on, my car's out front." He  began
to lead the way and turned just in time to catch  Diefenbaker swiping
the forgotten sandwich from his desk. "I swear," he muttered, "one day
that wolf will go too far."
 
He was still grumbling about his stolen lunch when they reached the Riviera,
even though he had managed to pry another sandwich  out of the precinct's
intermittently functioning vending machine.  To take his mind off his
troubles, he tried pumping his advisor  for information, of any kind.
"So, what do you do for a living?"
 
"I am an apothecary. And a priest."
 
"Oh? Like your grandfather?"
 
"Yes."
 
"Hmm. How did you get involved in the detective business?"
 
"My son is a police officer."
 
Ray laughed, nearly choking on a hunk of bread. "All right. I  admit
it, I walked into that one." He thumped his chest a few times to get
his food to settle properly. "You're helping him out, then? Good. Good.
My old man never would have...well, that's a whole nother story." He
made a show of peering through the windows. "You stay on the lookout
for--whatever it is you're looking for. We're in the neighborhood."
 
Caine nodded. Ray reduced the car's speed and they crawled along,  alert
for any untoward activity. Even Dief had his nose pressed  up against
the nearest window. The minutes ticked past, uneventful, until suddenly
Caine flinched and put his hand on Ray's shoulder. "Here. We must stop
here."  
The policeman, accustomed to Fraser's similar requests, pulled into the
nearest open parking space. "Now what?"
 
The priest cocked his head, eyes closed. After a moment of  concentration,
he pointed to a small shop directly in front of them. "There."
 
They got out of the car, Dief following faithfully at Caine's  heels,
and entered the shop. It turned out to be a small market, with bottles,
cans, packages, and baskets of food resting on the shelves and bundles
of dried herbs dangling from various  locations. Caine moved through
the store in a daze, hands moving in front of him as though feeling the
air. "The evil is strong in here."
 
"Actually," Ray said, dodging around a hanging bunch of something green
and black, "I think it's just the garlic."
 
They arrived at the counter with the cash register, where the proprietor
stood waiting with a friendly smile. "May I help you folks?"
 
Dief began whining, his eyes turning imploringly toward the two humans
he had accompanied. Ray grunted in disgust. "Are you still hungry? If
you steal something, it's coming out of the Mountie's wallet, do you
hear me? Of course you don't, you're deaf.  Well, read my lips--NO FOOD!"

The wolf's whine turned to a rumbling growl and he took a step forward,
baring his teeth. Ray stumbled out of his way, hands up  protectively.
"Okay, okay, I'll get you a--"
 
"You!" Caine pointed at the store owner, his voice low and menacing.
"You have chosen to side with evil. You must be stopped!"
 
The proprietor's pleasant expression twisted to fury and he reached beneath
the counter, snatching out a pair of knives.  "And you,
Shaolin, must die!" he snarled.
 
Ray pulled his gun and attempted to aim at the shopkeeper, but  
Caine was standing in the way. He spit out an oath, not willing to risk
shooting someone else in the back. The shelves on either side of him
boxed him in, so that he couldn't circle around to a better position.

The store owner slashed with the knives, not with any great skill but
with a ferocity born of overwhelming fury. Somehow the priest managed
to twist aside from the strokes of the glittering blades and, using a
move almost too swift for Ray to see, knocked one of the knives onto
the floor.  
At that point Dief dove into the fray, literally. He leaped, snarling,
onto the counter, and from there onto the chest of the  madman, knocking
him down and catching the hand with the  remaining knife in powerful
jaws.  
The man screamed, never having anticipated being attacked by an 
enraged wolf. While Dief kept him pinned, Ray finally pushed his way
past Caine and wrestled the shopkeeper into handcuffs.  The captive,
perfectly cogent mere moments before, now hissed and hurled imprecations
in Chinese.
 
"Yeah, you can have a nice day, too," Ray muttered. He made a show of
straightening his rumpled clothing, then turned to look at Caine, who
wasn't even breathing hard. "Any reason why this psycho wants to kill
you?"  
"He is...a minion of a dark force. It will do...anything...to prevent
me from bringing its reign of evil to an end."
 
"You want to explain how you knew to come in here, out of all the places
to chose from? At least Fraser usually sniffs out a trail or something;
you just pointed and said, 'Here there be dragons.'  I admit, it seems
to have worked, but I like to put a little more on my reports than 'eeny
meeny miny  moe,' if you get my drift."
 
The priest gestured with his hands. "I could *feel* his evil. It permeates
the air around us..." 
 
Ray wasn't buying any of it, and said so.
 
"Call it...a hunch?" Caine amended.
 
"Yeah, right. Well, it's better than nothing." He eyed their prisoner.
The man had stopped shouting, but he still glared at them in a less-than-
friendly, more-than-slightly-insane manner.  "I don't think we'll get
any leads outta him. He's pretty  incoherent."
 
"Perhaps I can remedy that." Caine glanced around, then began 
collecting various items from the surrounding shelves.  "His...possession
...can be reversed by the proper mixture of herbs," he said as he sifted
through the assorted ingredients.
 
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
 
"I am an apothecary."
 
"Uh huh." Ray studiously watched him combine the bizarre-looking, foul-smelling
components in a clay pot, tasting the concoction  
occasionally. "I can't believe you put that in your mouth," the policeman
said out of habit.
 
At last Caine spooned the compound into the protesting captive's  mouth,
Dief assisting by offering the choice between biting and being bitten.
The effect was immediate: the store owner tensed, struggling, and then
relaxed completely. He would have slipped to  the floor if Ray hadn't
held him up.
 
"Now," the Chicago cop said, "you're going to tell us where to find 
Bon Bon Hai."

Fraser pointed meaningfully at the sign on the restaurant door.
 
"You're right," Peter had to admit. "No dogs allowed. I can see how that
might hurt a wolf's feelings." Personally, he thought the Mountie had
spent too much time trapped alone on ice floes...but who was he to judge?
 
Fraser opened the door and then stood there, holding it, waiting for
the other to go through. Peter entered the building and climbed the stairs
to the restaurant. He looked around, admiring the surroundings. It was
richly appointed, yet not obtrusively decorated, just enough for a pleasant
ethnic atmosphere.
 
And that's all he saw. No customers, no waiters, no people of any kind.
The place was vacant.
 
He stepped farther into the room and checked it for signs of violence,
but everything was immaculate. "Hey, I thought you said they were still
open for business?"
 
Fraser returned to the dining area after examining the kitchen.  "They
are--at least, they did not expect to disappear."
 
"How can you tell that? There's no indication of a struggle, no 
threatening notes, nothing left behind as an 'example' to  others." 

The Mountie frowned. "True, but the front door was unlocked." He pointed
to a table near him. "The condiments are still set out.  And I found
this..." He knelt on the floor in front of the doorway to the kitchen.

Peter joined him, crouching down to get a better view. Several  small,
light-colored specks were in evidence against the red of  the carpet.
"What are they?"
 
"Crumbs of some sort. Flattened." He picked one up and carefully touched
it to his tongue. "Hmm."
 
"What is it?"
 
He brushed off his hands and looked at the policeman. "Popcorn. 
High in salt, with artificial flavoring. Still fresh."
 
Peter pushed himself to his feet. "Not much to go on. This is a 
restaurant, after all. Maybe they forgot to vacuum before they left."

"I don't think that's the case." He also stood. "I've eaten here several
times, and while they serve an impressive variety of Chinese food, they
do not have popcorn on the menu."
 
"What then?"
 
"I believe they received a visitor, someone they knew and  trusted, and
when he stepped onto the carpet these crumbs scraped off the
soles of his shoes. This visitor was the stimulus for their disappearance.
So the question is, from where did this popcorn come?"
 
"And who brought it in?"
 
The two men pondered the clue for several moments. Then, at once, both
began to speak. "My father once told me--" "My father used  to say--"

"You go ahead," Fraser said after a brief, confused pause.
 
"No, no, after you, I insist."
 
He nodded acquiescence. "My father once told me, 'Always search
for wood in a forest.' In other words, although you may find it in different
places, it is best to go to the source, where there is a large quantity
nd you are most likely to come upon what you need."
 
"Well, my father used to say, 'Never feed the deer meat nor expect the
tiger to delight in grazing, for each has its own way of life, distinct
from the other.' You claim they didn't serve popcorn here--would they
be inclined to eat it?"
 
"From the quality of their food, I believe Mr. and Mrs. Lee to be people
of refined taste who would not be satisfied with such a chemically enhanced
snack...but their son, David, is a teenager and possibly has not yet
learned their values of proper  nutrition."
 
"And, like a lot of teenagers, he might also spend his time hanging out
with his friends--. Where they make *lots* of popcorn."

"Your father is a wise man."
 
"From what I hear, so was yours."

Kermit shifted position in his chair as they ran into another dead end.
They had been going at this for some time, trying to locate their quarry
by computer while the others were out on the streets. On the desk in
front of him sat a mug of black coffee,  barely touched.
 
Beside him, Elaine growled in frustration and barely restrained  herself
from banging her fist against the keyboard. "Doesn't this man even exist?"
she demanded. She was normally a calm woman, but  he was
discovering that she could display a temper when balked.  "It seems impossible
that there's no trace of him anywhere."
 
"If you'd seen what I've seen...let's just say I wouldn't be surprised
if he appeared out of thin air."
 
She poised her graceful fingers over the keys. "Well, I'm not about to
give up. I refuse to believe we're helpless to find him.  So, he doesn't
use credit cards, or telephones, or cars; I can live with that. But a
man with the power to turn Chinatown upside down has to interact with
*something*."  
He leaned closer, her words evoking in him a sudden inspiration. "What
did you say?"
 
"I said, a man with that kind of power has to interact with the rest
of the world in some way."
 
"Power. Yes." A wisp of her hair tickled his ear, momentarily distracting
him. He found himself wondering at her faint aroma of vanilla. As soon
as he realized it, he shoved that thought aside and continued his line
of reasoning. "Electricity. Check the power usage for Chinatown in the
past...oh...month or so."
 
She adroitly typed in the request. As the data scrolled across the screen,
he pointed to one set of figures in particular that stood out. "Oh, yeah.
We got him."
 
"How do you know?"
 
He wanted to tell her, to explain about the electrical surges and blackouts
that he had witnessed accompanying Bon Bon Hai's exercises of power,
but she wouldn't believe him in a million years. Instead, he tipped down
his glasses and peered over them at her. "Do you have a car?"
 
"Yes..."
 
"Can I borrow your keys? I rode here with Peter."
 
"Why do you have to go? We can radio Fraser and Ray and have them there
much more quickly."
 
"You do that. As for me, well, this whole mess is mostly my fault. I
let him get away once before." A chill crept into his voice. "It's not
happening again."
 
She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then dug the keys out of
her pocket and handed them over. "Fifth space on the left. Be careful
with it."  
"Elaine--" he touched his lips to hers in gratitude and sprang out of
his chair"--you're beautiful."
 
He dashed from the room, remaining within earshot just long enough to
hear her say, "Thank you kindly."
 
Fraser pushed open one of the restaurant's windows and scanned the street
below. "It has to be nearby, or the evidence would  have worn off before
David arrived here..." He spotted the theater marquee, nearly hidden
between two flanking signs with flashing, colored light bulbs. "Aha!
There it is." He swung his right leg over the windowsill.
 
"Hey!" Peter shouted, grabbing a double handful of the red serge
uniform. "What do you think you're doing? We're on the second 
story up here."
 
"But I--" He stopped, took in the twenty foot drop to the pavement mitigated
by an awning, and weighed it against the cop's visible anxiety. After
a brief hesitation he relented. "The  door."
 
"The door," Peter agreed. He had to force himself to release his grip
when his instinct was to drag the Mountie back into the restaurant. 

They exited in the traditional fashion and ran down the street to the
theater. The building appeared to be closed, but that didn't stop them.
Fraser tested the front door to ascertain that it was locked, then prepared
to kick it open.
 
Peter blocked his way. "Not yet," he said, concentrating.
 
"Do you hear something?"
 
Peter shook his head, eyes shut tightly. "Not exactly. It's my father."
He could feel, in a nebulous way, a sense of expectancy from Caine. He
waited several moments until the feeling coalesced into a knot of confident
decision, then stepped aside.  "Now."
 
***
 
At the rear of the building, Caine swiped his fingers across the lock
of the service entrance and pulled the door open. Ray jumped into the
doorway of the supply room, gun extended, shouting, "Police! Nobody move!"
 
Immediately four of the fine, upstanding,  citizens of  Chinatown
jumped him and bore him to the floor.
 
Caine gripped the uppermost by his shoulder and flung him away.  Dief
bounded into action, sinking his teeth into a cuff of one  of the assailants
and dragging him off the policeman. Ray managed to 
heave the remaining two aside, but his gun skidded into a corner as a
result. He didn't want to injure any of the civilians, although they
seemed to have no reservations about inflicting upon him grievous bodily
damage.
 
Momentarily free, Ray noticed a series muffled thuds coming from
outside the room. Then the moment expired and one of the men charged
him, using a hastily snatched mop as a weapon. The attackers, like the
shopkeeper, weren't trained for fighting, but they had a great deal of
energy and determination.
 
Dief was successfully keeping his man pinned against a wall, while Caine
had already removed one man from the conflict and was  facing the other,
leaving Ray to take care of Mr. Clean. He  dodged the first swing of
the mop handle and ducked beneath the second, grabbing it on the return
pass. They wrestled briefly,  the cop realizing that he would lose this
contest of strength if  he didn't use his wits to end it quickly.  
He maneuvered the struggle in the confined space so that his adversary
tripped over a stack of popcorn buckets. While the other man was off
balance, Ray wrested the mop from his grasp and trapped him sharply on
the skull with it, knocking him out.
 
He looked up to see that Caine had somehow incapacitated his second opponent.
"You know, you're pretty good at hand-to-hand  combat for a priest. Father
Behan should take lessons. I bet no one breaks into the poor box when
you're around." He recovered  his gun and opened the door to the interior
of the theater just  in time to see Benny and Peter stowing the last
of the front door guards behind the vacant ticket counter.  
"Oh, hello, Ray," Fraser said, straightening up and dusting off  his
hands.  
Peter was eying the still-impeccable Mountie in amazement.  "How did
you take out two guys without wrinkling your uniform or  losing your
hat? You've gotta teach me that sometime."
 
Fraser only shrugged, rolling his eyes up to glimpse the brim of  his
Stetson. "Practice."
 
Ray pointed to the stairs leading to the second floor where the movies
were shown. "This is it, guys. Ready or not, here we  come."
 
The five of them spilled into the darkened theater. They soon discovered
why this region of the neighborhood had been so empty; every seat was
taken, occupied by a person staring enraptured not at the silver screen
but at the luminous presence on the stage beneath it.
 
Bon Bon Hai stood at the focal point of the room, the stolen book of
Shambhala clutched to his chest, reciting his seductive litany of evil.
His eyes were wide, the whites glowing in the enveloping gloom, his lips
stretched taut in an endless, insane grin.
 
Even Peter was brought up short by the unearthly appearance of their
adversary, and Caine's hands rose in a defensive position though Bon
Bon Hai hadn't yet spotted them deep in the shadows of  the theater's
entrance. Dief tensed, lips baring the sharp  canines he knew how to
utilize to their best advantage.
 
"Oh, dear," Fraser murmured.
 
Bon Bon Hai continued to cast his power over the spellbound  audience,
his free hand gesticulating wildly. A wind whipped up,  tossing candy
wrappers and soft drink cups through the air.  The lights began to flicker
madly. And then he saw them.
 
He giggled. "You think you have caught me, Kwai Chang Caine?  
Impossible." His voice bubbled with glee. "I have already turned  the
hearts of those here. You are too late to save them. I can  destroy you
where you stand, with less than a thought, while you cannot touch me;
I can melt away only to return another time, another place."
 
"You will find it is not so easy to extinguish my light," Caine declared,
advancing step by step down the aisle. Dief walked alongside him, claws
faintly clicking on the concrete floor, and  the others trailed behind.

Bon Bon Hai scowled, the wind increasing to a whirling frenzy.  Lights
shattered. Caine flinched but did not falter under the fierce assault.
Soon he was within a few feet of the stage upon which his enemy perched.
"I defeated your evil master," Caine  said, voice raised to carry above
the howling wind. "I will defeat you as well."
 
"Never!" Bon Bon Hai hissed. He retreated, allowing the wind to cease
as he poured his energy into escaping. "Wherever there is evil tainting
a single soul, there can I travel. Not even the light of every candle
can chase away all shadows, for they will ever wait to pounce when the
candles die." Smoke began to emanate  from the book in his arms.
 
The sleek, black muzzle of a gun materialized at his temple. "Not this
time, you don't," Kermit breathed in his ear. "I see so much  as a spark
from any of these lights and it'll be able to shine right through the
hole in your head." The ex-mercenary reached out  with the hand not holding
the gun and plucked the book out of Bon Bon Hai's grasp, then pushed
the pawn of the Dark Warrior  forward.
 
"You have not beaten me," Bon Bon Hai shouted, hoarse with fury.  "Everyone
in this audience will do my bidding."
 
Caine shook his head. "They do not follow you willingly.  Once  your
power is broken, they will return to themselves." He took  Ray's left
hand with his right.  Peter got the message and formed a link between
Ray and Kermit, who reluctantly tucked away his gun. Fraser took
Kermit's other  hand and then both he and Caine put their hands on Dief's
head, completing the circle around their enemy.
 
"No!" Bon Bon Hai screeched, falling to his knees.
 
"Evil cannot prevail against the forces of good, which, unified, are
a power greater than any of the individual parts," the  Shaolin intoned.

Bon Bon Hai covered his ears, but he could not block out the ring of
truth. He collapsed, writhing, upon the floor.  "Hatred will never overcome
those who hold love in their hearts,"  Caine continued, his words striking
blows more sure than any he could have landed using kung fu, "for in
the end it will consume itself, leaving nothing behind."
 
Bon Bon Hai gave one final shriek of defiance and fell silent, sinking
into unconsciousness.
 
The stillness held for a moment, the entire room at perfect  peace. Then
the members of the community began to awaken from their trance and Peter
broke the circle to snap cuffs on their now-powerless opponent.  
Ray looked around and cleared his throat. "So...anyone up for a home-
cooked Italian meal?"

The Vecchios had plenty of food to spare for their four unexpected guests.
They would even gladly have set a place for Kermit, but he begged off,
claiming that he had promised to take Elaine out for ice cream.
 
Fraser had been able to talk Mr. Lee into telling them the whole story,
after the restaurateur had recovered from the effects of being under
Bon Bon Hai's control.
 
The infiltration of the community had started quietly. Those with corrupt
leanings--like the shopkeeper Ray and Caine had run into--became the
emissaries, luring others with gilded words.  Soon the honest citizens
didn't know which of their neighbors they could trust. And the more followers
he obtained, the more Bon Bon Hai's power grew.
 
Finally it reached the point where he could possess even an  unwilling
subject. He had taken over David Lee's mind and used the boy to bring
his parents to the theater, a strategy that had  proven exceedingly successful.
 
Ray, however, didn't believe a word of it. Rather, he insisted that they
had been victims of hypnotism instead of possession. He couldn't satisfactorily
explain the wind and the flickering  lights he had witnessed in the theater,
but he maintained that old wiring and a malfunctioning ventilation system
were probably at fault.
 
"I suppose that is...possible," Fraser admitted. He was more concerned
about how he would handle Dief's newest attitude.  The wolf had become
insufferably smug since helping to defeat the forces of evil. He considered
asking Caine to give the animal a  stern talking-to.
 
He tended to ignore the babble Ray's family raised around him, finding
it generally confusing and unproductive, but one  particular eddy of
conversation caught his ear. "So, you're a sharpshooter, hmm?" 
Francesca asked Peter from directly across the table.
 
Peter was sitting at Fraser's left, so his answer was clearly audible.
"Yes, I am. Comes in handy in my line of work. I don't use my gun as
often as I used to, however."
 
"You know, Fraser's a marksman too, I hear, even though it seems
he doesn't keep his gun loaded." She glanced at the Mountie out 
of the corner of her eye, as though to make sure he was listening. "Maybe
you could give him a little...competition."
 
"I don't think that's necessary. After all, I'll be leaving town shortly,
so I won't really have the time. But it's considerate of  you to be thinking
of things for me to do while I'm here."
 
"Oh, I can think of things a lot more interesting for you to do. Fraser
can use some competition in other areas as well."
 
Peter nearly jumped out of his chair, drawing the attention of those
immediately around him. "Uh...yeah," he mumbled, focusing  intently on
polishing off the remaining food on his plate.  Francesca regarded him
with the same expression Dief had been  sporting recently.
 
Ray glared at her. "Frannie, leave the guests alone for once?"  She pouted
but complied, returning to the regularly scheduled chaos of Vecchio communication.
 
Fraser touched Peter's arm. "My apologies," he said in a low voice when
the policeman looked up at him. "I hope she didn't cause you any embarrassment."
 
"Nah, that's okay." Peter brushed off the incident. "I'm used to it."

Fraser shook his head in amazement. "That is something to which I will
never become accustomed. But then, my father once gave me a helpful piece
of advice. He said, 'Always...'" The Canadian  paused, a flash of red
catching his eye.
 
Caine, as a priest, had been awarded the seat at the head of the  table,
even though he didn't share the same religion as the  Catholic family.
He met Fraser's eyes across the length of the  table, then purposefully
turned to look directly at the specter  of Robert Fraser that stood behind
him, one hand on the Shaolin's shoulder. The older Mountie winked. 
 
Peter watched the interchange, confused. "He said what?"
 
"He said..." Fraser couldn't help staring as his father vanished  without
any others showing signs that they had seen him. "Never  mind."
 
The End