Twenty minutes later, Kermit entered the warehouse in a trance-like state. Mind blank. Empty. Waiting instructions. He sat down in front of Truong Qui. His long-lost tormentor.

"Well, my prodigal son comes home," whispered the general, voice pitched slightly higher than the metronome in the background. "Are you prepared to complete the mission?"

Kermit reached behind him and pulled his weapon. The Desert Eagle landed on the table with a thud.

"Excellent," Truong Qui rose and circled behind his victim. Leaning toward his ear, he crooned, "Complete the mission. There will be release. Comfort. Peace." He pulled the metronome closer by the cloth it was resting on. "Failure will equate more pain."

Kermit flinched. The ticking roared in his ear. His palms began to sweat and a tear rolled out from beneath the dark glasses. Anything to escape that sound....

He rose from the chair and retrieved his gun. Leaving to complete the mission. To avoid the pain.

Truong Qui watched his assassin leave with a vicious smile. He had won. Once again. As usual. Soon, he would be even more powerful and wealthy. The thought of the havoc he would reap intoxicated him and left him cackling with anticipation.

*****

Savannah sat shivering on the sofa, waiting for Peter. The items she'd liberated from Kermit's desk in the study coupled with what she'd heard over the phone and Kermit's oblivious state when he'd left led her to a frightening conclusion. This was definitely related to the nightmare he'd experienced in Vietnam. In her heart, she knew it. Knew he was in deep trouble.

She had no choice now but to betray his confidence. The very thought made her sick. How could she spill his private horrors for everyone to see? He trusted her. It was for that reason that she must. There was not a single person on this planet who knew, except Paul Blaisdell. Maybe even he didn't know what Kermit had told her.

*He may hate me,* she agonized. That was a chance she was forced to take.

Peter didn't knock. By now, he understood that hesitation wasn't an option. "Did he come back?" he asked, crossing over to sit beside her.

"Yes, he did," Savannah replied, wringing her hands nervously. "Peter, I think I know what's happening to him."

Peter saw only pain and desperation in her being. "Tell me."

"When Kermit came home, he was practically shaking. You know how in control he is. No matter what. It was like he'd been fighting for his sanity." She closed her eyes. "I think he is.

"He finally broke down, Peter. He couldn't tell us where he was for two hours the other night because he didn't know. And it's happened to him three times. Peter, he was in so much pain."

Peter broke in. "You mean he has amnesia?"

"In a way. Kermit told me that he had a memory of prison camp. He was flashing back to it and it was so real, he could smell it. He's afraid he's losing his mind."

*God,* Peter thought, running a hand through his hair. *He doesn't need me. He needs Paul, dammit.*

"After we'd talked for a little bit, he got a phone call. This is where it starts to fit together," she explained. "Kermit picked up the phone and his expression went blank. No conversation. Just stood there, staring at nothing. I called to him and he didn't answer so I went to the other phone and picked up the receiver. All I heard was this ticking sound."

"Ticking like a clock? Or like a bomb?"

"No, like a metronome. I've been involved with music for most of my life and I recognize that sound," Savannah responded. "He just put down the phone and left. Without a single word. After he left and I called you, I decided to go through his desk. He'd locked something in there when he came home today. Here's what I found." She handed Peter a photograph, papers, and some blueprints.

"Well, these are the blueprints to the Convention Center...and the security detail for some event! How did Kermit-? Dumb question," Peter berated himself. He then studied the picture carefully. "Who is this?" He searched his memory for any form of recognition.

"I don't know. But I do have some information about Kermit's past in Vietnam that I know has to do with what's happening to him. I *have* to tell you so you can help him."

Peter could feel her struggle. Fighting between her need to keep her husband's rarely-given confidence and her aching need to save him. "You can trust me," Peter said, taking her hand. "I swear."

She nodded gratefully. Nevertheless, it took her a few moments to begin. "Paul Blaisdell was friends with Kermit's father. Mr. Griffin was involved in weapons development for the military. After his death, Paul sort of took Kermit under his wing. He was about nineteen at the time. Paul recruited him into his special military unit in Vietnam. I suppose he figured that if Kermit had to serve, he had a better chance of surviving under Paul's command. He was right.

"Paul trained Kermit personally. Taught him every trick he knew to keep him alive. They were part of an intelligence operation called Phuong Hoang or the Phoenix Program. It was run by the South Vietnamese but the Americans provided intelligence, money, and equipment. The object of the operation was to break down the clandestine operations of the Viet Cong network. Kermit was Paul's 'golden boy', a natural talent. Moving behind the lines. Buying information and selling false information."

Savannah gave a slight smile behind her tears. "Evidently, my husband had just as much attitude and self-confidence than he does now. He quickly became Paul's best. Paul, for his part, relied on Kermit, entrusting him with more and more responsibility. As the months wore on, Paul and Kermit came to realize that the South Vietnamese leaders they were working with were just as corrupt and evil as the enemy. Raped, murdered, and robbed to line their own pockets. When Paul threatened to shut down the operation, they betrayed him to the Viet Cong. There was a mix-up on the day of the ambush and they captured Kermit instead of Paul."

Peter took in the magnitude of these events in his foster father's life. He could only imagine the anguish Paul felt. This explained so much about both of them. Kermit and Paul.

"Peter, have you heard of a place called 'the Hanoi Hilton'?" Savannah asked, pausing. She had to take a breath before the next part of her revelation.

He nodded. Paul had told him about that hellhole of a prison camp but never mentioned that his friend had been there.

"That's where they took him. Tortured him for weeks on end. Beat him. Starved him. Shocked him. Blinding lights in his face for days on end." The thought of his pain was clearly almost too much for Savannah to bear.

*Thus, the sunglasses,* Peter reasoned.

"Peter, he was only twenty-two years old. After weeks of this, they broke him. He told them everything he knew. Who was in charge and where to find them. Can you imagine how that plagues him? That's why he's so possessive about all of his personal information. No one is ever going to know anything about him that he doesn't want to share."

Kermit's words from the other night echoed in Peter's brain. *Tell me how it feels to let down the one man who ever gave a crap about your opinion or your life.*

Savannah continued her painful revelations. "After those interrogations, he only has flashes of memory. He remembers being taken from the prison and returned several times. Kermit later found out the all of the South Vietnamese leaders of the Phuong Hoang were killed. He doesn't know if they merely used his information or turned him into an assassin. Sometimes, it's nearly more than he can stand."

Kermit's tremendous will had saved Peter's ass on more than one occasion. He could only imagine what losing control of his own mind would do to a man like that. "How did he get out alive?"

"Your father came in and got him. Paul helped him escape and helped him find a way to recover and live afterwards."

"So, what is the connection between then and now?"

"One of the things they used to torture Kermit in prison with was a metronome. Constantly ticking in his ear. He can't take that sound. Notice we don't have a single clock that isn't digital in our house. I sold my Grandfather clock. Even his watch is digital because the slight ticking noise hurts him. Also, he kept whispering something in his sleep...'Do Vien'."

A light came on in Peter's mind. He'd heard those words before. Recently.

Peter had left Savannah alone reluctantly. The baby was asleep and she didn't want to wake her. Besides, she was praying that Kermit would come home. Give her one more chance to stop what was threatening to burn him alive. Peter had returned to the precinct to dig into the information Savannah had found in Kermit's desk.

Though not as cagey as Kermit on the computer, Peter had picked up a few things. Running through the Interpol files, he put a name with the photograph Savannah had given him. Do Vien. A Vietnamese businessman serving as an international liaison for the government. Vietnam was making attempts to draw in international trade, especially with the United States. Part of Do Vien's responsibilities was to establish relations with Vietnamese businesses and U.S. companies and investors. One of the companies in negotiations was located in Sloanville. Magnatike International. A manufacturer of parts for industrial machinery.

Do Vien would be in town tonight at a gala to promote international relations and announce the relationship between his company and Magnatike. *One big, dull party, no doubt,* thought Peter.

The blueprints! The gala was at the Convention Center. He'd heard brief discussions about the 98th precinct handling the security for the event. Sitting here in his hands, direct from Kermit's computer, were the details of the security procedures. Why in the hell would Kermit want that?

Pulling his last computer hacker trick he had out of his hat, he dug into the intelligence files concerning Do Vien. What he read sucked the breath out of him. Do Vien. Former South Vietnamese Military Specialist. Last command - the Phoenix Program. Present involvements in organized crime throughout Southeast Asia.

Kermit was wrong. All of the Phuong Hoang weren't killed. They missed one. Or maybe he bought his life back from the Viet Cong with information. *That bastard!* Peter cursed, putting the pieces together. *He's the one who gave Paul and Kermit up to the VC!*

Reading further, he read a brief reference to a man called Truong Qui. Also suspected of organized crime involvement in Vietnam. Rivals included several, including Do Vien. Reaching the end of the document, an entry burned into his brain. Truong Qui. Former NVA General. Last command - P.O.W. camp referred to as 'Hanoi Hilton'. Specializing in interrogation and re-education. The dates coincided with Kermit's internment as a P.O.W. Worst information of all - he had entered the country a week ago.

With slicing clarity, Peter understood. Truong Qui had done this to Kermit. He was drilling into Kermit's mind again to exact revenge on all of them. Take out his enemy and take over the organization as well. Revenge and money all in one package. If he could destroy one more mind along the way, he'd probably take even more pleasure.

Kermit probably did kill those men in Vietnam and would be going after Do Vien. Tonight. Peter grabbed his information and raced to the door. Before he could make his escape, he ran right into Wolf Gannett.

"Hi'ya man! Going to get some action?"

Peter stifled his annoyance with an idea. "Wolf. You want an assignment?"

Beaming at the opportunity for more research, Wolf said, "You bet! What do I do? Watch your back?"

"Come with me."

*****

Peter filled Wolf in on the way to see Savannah. Giving him as little personal information about Kermit as he could and still help him understand the gravity of the situation. Wolf became strangely quiet. As if he were truly grasping the nightmare that was threatening to ensue.

Savannah nearly tackled him with questions when she opened the door. Had he found Kermit? Who was the man in the picture? Why? What? Where?

Peter sat her down and read her the highlights of the files and then told her what he suspected was Kermit's mission.

"Oh, God, Peter," she exclaimed, stricken with fear and worry. "You can't bring the rest of the force in on this. They might kill him. How do we stop him?"

"Not we. Me." Peter turned to Wolf. "I want you to take her and the baby to my father's place and keep them there. At home."

"NOW, WAIT A MINUTE!" Savannah yelled. "You need me! He won't come to you. I can reason with him-!"

Taking her by the arms, Peter tried to calm her down. "Savannah. My hunch is that he won't know any of us. You'll just be another liability for me. If I let anything happen to you, he'd never get over it, even if I do stop him. Let me do my job."

Savannah relaxed in his arms. "All right. Just let me know what's happening, okay?"

Peter should have been suspicious at her sudden compliance but he was too distracted. He nodded, gave her another brief hug and left.

Savannah immediately turned her focus to Wolf. "Were you invited to that party, Wolf?"

"Well, probably. If I wasn't, dollface, somebody's not doin' their job. If I decided to go, all I'd have to do is....Wait a minute!" He finally got her drift. "There's no damn way I'm takin' you there. Caine would have my ass."

Weedling wasn't going to work. Time for the secret weapon. Savannah let all the frustration and worry and pain come running down her face. Huge, hot tears. "Wolf, please. I have to go to him. He needs me. I don't know what I'll do...." She buried her face in her hands.

Tears were one thing Wolf Gannett had no defense for. "Aw, now," he fumbled, hugging her as she cried. "Peter's gonna work it out. Please don't cry."

"Please, Wolf. Just take me there. I won't get in the way. Honest. We'll just walk around the party and keep an eye out for Kermit. I promise." She gazed up at him. Begging with those green eyes.

He groaned and thought, *I'm dead!* "Okay. But swear you'll stay with me and out of the way."

Instantly, she brightened. "I swear. Let me take Kat over to my next-door neighbor and I'll get dressed."

After thirty minutes, she emerged from the bedroom, dressed in a long, green taffeta ballgown. Savannah had bought it for a charity event for the Children's Home. She was wearing her hair down in soft, wavy curls. *Kermit likes it this way,* she thought.

Wolf had called his assistant and had her bring his tux over so that he could look the part of a star. "Wow! I never met a woman who could look that good that fast!" He flashed her his shiniest film-star smile.

"Thanks. Warp speed dressing is new for me. Let's go."

They arrived at the gala to the flashbulbs and fuss that Wolf lived for. Wolf took her arm as she got out of the limo and escorted her into the ballroom. For a few moments, she kept her word. Champagne glass in hand, she mingled around the room with Wolf following close behind. Deftly maneuvering her way toward the secured area beside the stage.

When they reached the edge of the crowd, Wolf caught on to her plan. "You promised!" He grabbed her arm as she made a move toward the backstage area.

Jaw set and eyes blazing, she fired in her roughest Southern drawl, "You'd better git your hands off me or you'll be sorry. I mean it, boy."

"Oh, like how, dollface," he challenged, still holding onto her arm.

Stepping closer to Wolf, Savannah brought her knee up and Wolf doubled over, releasing her in the process.

Savannah took off backstage and ran headlong into two officers from the 98th precinct.

*****

"Detective, I'm telling you, there is just NO WAY an assassin could get in here!" Detective Forrest from the 98th precinct insisted. "The plans and security procedures were stored in a safe with only two persons knowing the combination. It was transferred by computer and encrypted!"

Peter groaned at the word 'computer'. "No, you're the one who doesn't understand, Detective," Peter insisted. "This assassin is about the best there is. As for your top secret security plans, what do you call THIS??" He thrust Kermit's paperwork in the detective's hands.

The detective looked over the plans and stammered, "...how in the world....?"

Peter began commanding the uniformed officers. "Look, this assassin knows your plans so you have to improvise. Just DON'T do whatever those plans tell you to do and we might just have a chance."

Detective Forrest bristled. "Look, Detective, I'm in charge here. I have enough men to handle the situation. Especially if it's just one man-"

Peter fought the urge to scream. "This ONE man is a professional hitman. He's probably already inside by now while you want to talk things over!"

"Impossible...."

"Just look at those plans again and tell me what is and isn't possible," Peter snapped, drawing his own gun and began to reconnoiter the area. *If I wanted to kill someone on stage, where would I go?* he thought.

He was just about to enter the auditorium when a familiar Southern drawl filled the air. "You let go of me! I happen to be a special consultant to Detective Caine!"

Peter winced and quickly returned to the lobby, seeing Savannah squirming as uniformed officers were trying to escort her out.

"Don't tell me THIS is the assassin, Detective," Forrest said sarcastically.

Peter glared at him as he gestured at the officers to release her. Taking her to one corner, he said, "I thought I told you-!"

"I told YOU that you need me! Kermit won't hurt me! Besides, nobody tells me what to do when my husband is in danger!" Savannah put her hands on her hips defiantly, waiting for Peter's eventual capitulation.

"You don't know that-!"

"I DO know that!" she shot back. "Before, he pushed me back but he didn't hurt me. Besides, I probably have a better chance of spotting him than you do. You're not getting rid of me and that's final!"

Peter sighed, seeing the truth of this. "What did you do to Wolf?"

"The usual thing a lady does when a man is irritating her."

"The Schneider treatment?"

"Lower," she grinned.

Peter left the lobby and headed for the command post in the garage with Savannah hot on his heels. Turning to try to discourage her one more time, he growled, "I don't know who's harder to deal with. You or Kermit."

"I do!" she replied, desperately trying to keep up with him.

"SO DO I!" shouted an incensed Wolf Gannett, limping slightly, catching up to them. "That was really bitchy, lady. I happen to use that equipment! After all I did to get you here-"

"What the hell do you mean, 'all I did to get you here'?" Peter demanded, leaning into Wolf's face. "I told you to keep Nancy Drew here at home and you brought her here! No, more than that - you pulled strings to get her here!"

"Hey, man," Wolf pleaded in his defense, "she started cryin' and beggin'! What was I supposed to do? I got her here and tried to keep her out front but she just went off on me and split!" Wolf's face changed and he looked past Peter where the object of their discussion had been standing. "Where'd she go?"

"Oh, damn!" Peter started running down the hall to the basement stairs.

*****

She had felt him watching their conversation. When Savannah had turned, she caught a glimpse of him slipping around the corner and flew after him. Peter would be angry but he'd get over it. She had to get to him first. Make him hear her. See her. No matter what those monsters had done to him, it couldn't be bigger than her love. She'd push those people and voices out of his mind and save him.

Carefully, she eased her way down the basement stairs. Negotiating the steep incline was difficult in high heels and a formal gown. Her trembling knees didn't help, either. It was nearly completely dark except for the glow of red emergency lights. She reached the bottom and gently called, "Kermit? Are you here?"

In one step, he was in front of her. She jumped and nearly fell backwards onto the stairs. The sight of him overcame her and she moved to wrap her arms around him. Before she could reach him, Kermit grabbed her wrists in one hand.

"Do Vien has an interesting choice of bodyguards these days. Sending little girls out to save his ass."

There was no recognition. No warmth or feeling. "Kermit!" she pleaded. "It's me, Scarlett. Remember. Please remember!"

His face softened. He relaxed the grip on her wrists. For a fleeting moment, he hesitated. Her smell. Her voice. Easy to get lost in....

TICK! TICK! TICK!....

Kermit snapped back to his mission: KILL DO VIEN! NO MERCY!

Savannah saw the flicker of the man she loved cross his features, then it disappeared. There was still time. Before she could speak, Peter Caine kicked the door of the basement open and aimed his gun directly at Kermit. In one smooth motion, Kermit whirled Savannah around into his arms. Using her as a shield.

"Let her go, Kermit!" Peter commanded.

"NO, PETER!" she screamed. "He won't hurt me!"

"Kermit, let her go NOW! I swear to God I'll shoot you!" Peter knew he couldn't let Kermit hurt her. No matter what it took. Kermit wasn't in control of his own mind at present but, under normal circumstances, he trusted Peter. With his life. With the life of the woman he loved. The Kermit that Peter knew would never forgive him if he stood by and let his wife get hurt. Even if Kermit was the assailant.

Savannah grasped at every means she had to force his recognition. Leaning back on his chest, she rubbed her head tenderly on his neck. "Kermit, please remember. Remember I love you. Remember our baby. Kat needs you! Please!"

*Why is she doing that?* Kermit struggled to understand. *She's no assassin. I'm holding a gun on her and she's touching me like a lover. Why?! Who's K...Kat? Katherine!* A scent of baby powder flooding his memory. A fat, giggling baby. "KAT!" he said out loud.

Savannah's heart pounded with success. "Yes, Kermit. Kat! She needs you. I need you!" He was releasing her. Staring at her like she held all hope and peace.

Peter had been slowing moving down the stairs. Praying for an opening.

The ticking returned to Kermit's mind with a vengeance. Brief moments of freedom were snatched away. He caught a glimpse of Peter at the bottom of the stairs and flung his wife into him to cover his escape. Peter fell back, catching Savannah in his arms. Peter raised his weapon but Savannah shoved his arm, forcing his aim up to the ceiling. "NO, PETER!" she screamed.

Kermit disappeared through an emergency exit.

Peter helped Savannah to stand. She was shaking and crying. "Savannah," Peter said gently but firmly, "do you see now? He could hurt you next time. You have to leave and let me handle this."

Tears of anger running down her face, she stamped her foot and shouted, "Why? So you can kill him? He was starting to remember. I said he wouldn't hurt me and he didn't! I'm going after him." She moved to follow Kermit's escape route.

Peter grabbed her arm and half-carried, half-dragged her up the stairs. Savannah fought him all the way until he practically threw her into Wolf's arms. "Get her out of here! For real this time!" Suddenly taking a quiet tone, he spoke to Kermit's furious wife. "I'll do everything I can just to wound him. He's my friend, remember?"

Sadness briefly took him. *How can I do this?* The man Kermit was sent to kill was just as evil as the people who'd tortured him. Against all of Peter's training, he felt that this man deserved to die. An evil son of a bitch who even tried to have Paul killed. Who would kill others with organized crime in Vietnam. Regardless, if Kermit went through with the assassination, Kermit's life would end. Peter had to stop him.

Savannah's fury drained. She had forgotten that Peter loved him, too. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she sobbed, "I know...I know. Please help him."

Peter removed himself from her embrace, nodded to Wolf, and then went after his prey.

Wolf was speechless. An unusual state for the actor. What these people were living through was stranger than any movie script he'd ever read. He hurt for all of them but he was way out of his league. Sliding his arm around Savannah, he tried to comfort her. "Let's go," he instructed.

She looked up into his face and said, "There's no way in hell I'm leaving!" With that said, she broke free and ran down the hall to the main ballroom.

"I knew it! I just knew it!" Wolf shouted, running after her.

*****

Kermit, using his newly-acquired stagehand disguise as an advantage, managed to climb up on the scaffolding without much notice. Only one person asked him what he was doing. He just made noises about adjusting the lights and that person left him alone.

He climbed up and anchored his position on the precarious perch before drawing his elephant gun and taking sights with it, waiting. Perfect.

He knew that the police knew he was here but, familiar with their methods, knew that they would most likely allow the speech to continue to draw him out so that they could catch him. *Idiots,* he thought. If they had any brains at all, they would cancel the event. He knew they wouldn't.

Just as he predicted, the target came out from backstage and took his position at the podium. Kermit aimed his gun-

"Hold it!"

Peter stood at the other end of the stage up on the scaffolding, aiming his own gun at him. *Please,* Peter prayed silently, *don't make me shoot you!*

Kermit studied the opposition and decided that this detective would not shoot fast enough to stop him from shooting his target. "You fire, I'll fire," he promised.

"You'll fire anyway."

"Then I've got nothing to lose." Kermit readied the gun, flicked the safety off and aimed.

"Don't! I'll shoot!"

"Go ahead and shoot," Kermit dared.

Peter agonized. No matter who was controlling Kermit, this was still Kermit! His friend. He spotted some workman's tools nearby and reached for them. Maybe he could distract him somehow...spoil his aim....In the corner of his eye, Peter could see Wolf approaching the stage from one side and Savannah on the other. *Do something,* he thought to them, *distract him!*

Savannah saw the scaffolding rope swinging, put two and two together and looked up to see her husband. "Kermit!" she called out, desperately hoping he would not shoot.

Peter's left hand shot out, grasping a hammer and flung it at Kermit with all his strength, hoping to knock the gun out of his hand just as Wolf made a dive for Kermit's target.

Kermit saw his target begin to move and adjusted his aim accordingly when the blonde woman down below screamed "Kermit!" again. Something about her was familiar....Savannah...!

Suddenly, pain exploded in his left temple! He fought to maintain consciousness, to accomplish his mission. He squeezed the trigger as he felt his body go limp, heard the resulting scream and then darkness....

"Welcome back, Detective," Kermit heard when he opened his eyes again. It was quiet and he felt very comfortable and warm, despite the throbbing in his head. He tried to place the voice. It was very familiar. He groaned as he tried to move.

"We should have saved your room for you," the voice continued. "You have a head injury and suffered a very bad fall but you'll be just fine if you do what I tell you. So just relax...."

"Kermit?" Another voice interrupted, while he felt someone take his hand. Soft, tender...magnolias?

"Scarlett-?" he mumbled.

Savannah could not suppress a cry of relief as she laid her head on his arm. She looked up into his pain-filled face and stroked his hair. "It'll be all right," she assured him. "I'm right here."

Kermit tried to remember what happened but it was as if the events were shrouded in a half-remembered dream...or nightmare. Wasn't there someone he had to kill? "Savannah...what-?"

"You didn't kill him," she assured him. "Peter stopped you."

Kermit couldn't tell if he was relieved or disappointed as he lost consciousness once more.

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