The next morning, Kermit, Carolyn, and Peter met in the den, at the new computer. Carolyn showed them how far she'd gotten in decoding her father's messages. As busy as the week had been, she had had little time to work. It had taken her three days to figure out the key to the first message and another day to get the second. She was now sure she had figured out her father's pattern. "He must have figured you'd give me this task, Kermit. The two keys are the names of my stuffed bear and one of Kelly's dolls. If all the keys come from our childhood, I'll have this list for you in another day or so. See, Kermit, Peter, Father named a city and a person in each message. Do these two names have any meaning for you?"

Kermit looked over her shoulder at the monitor, "Oh, yeah! Those two are…were agents for Hungary and West Germany. Haven't heard anything of them for several years. Don't know why Paul put those names with those cities, though. Maybe, when you have more, we'll find the pattern…

"But, first, I want to show you what I found in Terri Cooper's financial records."

Carolyn gave up her seat at the keyboard to him. As he sat, he inserted a diskette he'd just removed from his pocket. Kermit started typing furiously, Carolyn and Peter now looking over his shoulder. First he pulled up the data he'd gathered the afternoon before, Terri's bank statement for the previous month. They could see several large deposits, and then one huge withdrawal.

Kermit then started a new search, following various links, adding to the information cache as he found something interesting. It didn't take long to find a pattern. Both Cooper and Stiles had gathered a large pool of money, cashing in various investments, and then sent it electronically to a bank in the Cayman Islands the previous Friday.

"That was three days before the attacks; can you trace exactly where it went?" Peter, even after all the searches he'd seen Kermit do, was still amazed at his friend's ability to unlock secrets. This was too similar to his father's ability to unlock doors.

A little while later, Kermit gave out a triumphant "Oh, yeah!" and leaned back in the chair. The other two could see on the monitor the exact same amount deposited into an account in the name of Rogres.

Kermit grabbed Peter as he turned to leave and go find Cooper. "Peter, this tells us that those two arranged to have Paul killed, but it's not enough to bring her in. And it doesn't tell us who attacked Annie and why nor who killed Stiles and why. We're assuming the three crimes are related, but we have absolutely no proof."

Peter reluctantly agreed but Carolyn was still ready to go. "These records are enough proof for me to go have a little talk with that bitch!" She was as angry as they were, but didn't have the years of police training serving to temper her actions.

Kermit pointed out that punching out Terri Cooper would make Carolyn feel much better right now, but putting her into prison would turn out to be much more satisfying.

It took several minutes of discussion before Carolyn agreed to wait, at least until there was enough evidence for an arrest.

Kermit turned back to the computer, "We need to find where Stiles was held. Maybe we can find some answers there. He was most likely kept in an abandoned building somewhere. So we need to check all of them and compare them to Nickie's findings from the autopsy. We know that whoever killed Stiles had him somewhere for a couple of days; from the dust, pollen, whatever, we should be able to figure out where.

Peter was looking at the report, amazed at what the coroner had found. He was about to comment when a string of epithets erupted from Kermit. He turned to see his friend frantically preparing to tear into the computer box.

Carolyn looked at her foster brother in dismay. "The screen just went blank, no noise, no warning, nothing."

Kermit spent the next hour trying everything he could think of, to no avail. Muttering Egyptian curses under his breath, he picked up the phone and called his friend who had sold it to them. They exchanged a few words and he hung up.

"It's probably the fucking power supply. Help me pack up this piece of shit. We're going back there where he will fix it right now. Coming, Pete?" The stress of the past week showed in his tone and words. His movements stayed gentle as he repacked the computer.

"No, I've got something I want to try. Give a yell when you're back."

Kermit and Carolyn headed out to the computer store, leaving Todd and Kelly to play with Bobby.

Peter went up to his old room and settled himself on the floor as he'd learned in the temple. He began to meditate.

***

The old man sat in his den, writing at his desk. All available surfaces were covered, with artifacts, books, and papers. Any order that existed here could only be found in this scholar's mind. He would scratch a few words in his journal, turn to verify something in a reference open on the desk, then move over to a book or an artifact to check an observation.

As he wrote, stray thoughts of his remaining family, so far away, would capture his attention for a moment or two. One such thought stuck, and grew. His face lit with pleasure.

**Grandfather?**

The thought-word drew the delighted mental response from the old man, **Peter?**

Matthew immediately put down his pen and glasses, rose from the desk, and arranged himself comfortably on the settee in the corner. An old injury precluded the lotus position; comfort was more appropriate for meditation and conversation.

The picture of his grandson appeared in his mind's eye as soon as he had calmed his chi. He sent a tentative greeting to the grandchild he had met but once and then not until the child was into his thirties. **Peter, is all well with you and your father?** He had not known Peter was capable of this form of communication and was somewhat concerned that he had chosen such an immediate medium.

The warmth projecting from this grown-up child erased the apprehension, but Matthew could detect a trace of something…uncertainty, perhaps? within Peter.

**Pop … er … Father, is fine; I'm as well as can be expected. I just wasn't sure this would work. This is the first time I've tried to contact anyone other than my father with this mind-to-mind thing.** Peter paused, as if for a deep breath to gather courage. **I have a request, Grandfather. Please?**

Matthew bowed his head; the mental gesture carried to the other. **If I can, of course!**

**I gather from something my father said that you two have not communicated since he and I left Ste. Adele.**

**We did speak, Peter, when your friend called … to ask about Paul Blaisdell.**

Peter snorted. This was as frustrating as talking with his father who never seemed to give a straight answer when a riddle was possible.

**I am only attempting to be accurate, young Peter,** the older man chided. He often picked up on this impatience in dealing with others, and he could sometimes see the humor, but it was important to be precise! **You are correct--my son and I have exchanged nothing more than what you heard that day.**

A wave of depression swept over the man as he spoke the words. This young man is so full of life, and of love and concern for his father. He truly regretted not being there to watch this latest heir to the Caine line grow. Certainly he had been there for the early growth years of his oldest son.

Instead of the happy memories that should have followed from that, the remembrance immediately triggered a deluge of guilt. Sorrow…oh, to be there for Kwai Chang, but not present for--or even know--my other sons. Only for short periods of time, while he was working, could he forget again the existence of two younger sons.

His delight in meeting the younger of the two, Martin (born of his second great love), had been sharply diminished with Martin's news concerning his first great love, the wife he had been forced to leave behind when he fled China. Because she was ill, she refused to hinder the flight of her husband and their son, Kwai Chang. Since she was Chinese, they thought she would be safe enough until he could come back for her. When he was told she had died, he saw no reason to return. And then, from Martin, he had learned that she had been pregnant, not ill, and not dead until some time after his second son had been born and co-opted by the Sing Wah. He was devastated.

His joy in knowing that his sons and grandson still lived could not come close to balancing out the anguish he felt on hearing the facts of his dear wife's death. Nor did it come close to balancing out the guilt he would forever carry for leaving a son for his enemy to raise.

There, too, was the original guilt he had carried because he had left his first son, too soon. The lure of solving history's questions, the path he had chosen, pulled him into the Himalayas. An accident there had only damaged his leg, but was reported as having killed him. And so those he left behind thought he had died. I should have returned to America for Kwai Chang; I should have returned to China for... He had family, but he had left them all. Then he thought they had died or, even worse, he had not known of their existence. Now, knowing he existed, they were ignoring him--a reasonable payback.

Until this moment.

A loving grandson come to call; a clever, loving grandson paying a more intimate call on his poor, old grandfather. The realization swept away the depression.

**Peter, tell me what you want me to do.**

The young man had felt his grandfather's extreme sadness and knew it to be grief for all the missed normal family experiences. Perhaps the fact that Matthew could share this tide of emotions with him meant that his plan might succeed.

**Grandfather, I'm still new at this mind meld stuff. I want to talk to you and to my father together, but don't know if I can pull him into this meeting. Will you help?**

**Peter, this mind-meld stuff, as you call it, has no limitations on the number of people involved, if each person has the same ability for telepathy as you do--which your father certainly does. All you have to do is invite him.

**I feel a certain reticence in your mind, some … nervousness, in calling on your father to join us. Why is that? What is it that you wish to discuss with us together?**

His grandson sighed. Why did I think this might be easy? Did I really think he wouldn't ask me that? Did I really think I could say, 'Hi, Grandfather, let's talk to Pop; Hi, Pop, let's talk to Grandfather,' and they would be 'fixed'?

When my father let me know he had not talked to his father since we left Ste. Adele, I felt so sad for him! I wanted him to have the same loving relationship with his father that I have with mine! Damn! This seemed like such a great way to practice my skills, and do some good at the same time! I thought I might have to fight with my father, but, with Grandfather, too?

Peter could feel his adrenaline begin to start to pump in anticipation of the verbal fight he had not expected and definitely wanted to avoid. He took a few seconds to restore his utterly relaxed pose, trying to think of a reasonable argument that would convince the old man. To all intents, Matthew was a stranger to him. He knew few enough 'pressure areas' in his father; he knew none in his Grandfather. Then, too, if he got too emotional in his arguments, would the telepathic link fail? He knew he was supposed to stay calm, but was that both a courtesy to the other and to help him maintain focus? Or was it a basic requirement?

**Grandfather, when my father told me that you two had not talked since we were in France, I was very surprised. I was sure that you would contact him, if he did not contact you-- that you would want to be part of his life again. But he says you have not written, called, or even touched his mind; nor have you tried to reach me. So I decided that I would try to reach you. If I could do that, then I was hoping the two of us could try to have a sort of conference call with him.**

He was pleased with himself. That sounded logical and very unemotional, especially for him. Then he heard his relative's response.

**Your father needs to decide for himself when he is ready to communicate with me, Peter. He has not resolved all of the emotions resulting from my abandoning him.** Grandfather Caine sighed. **He will have difficulty forgiving...**

The young man had imitated his father's Spock-like demeanor just a bit too long and his frustration spewed along the mental link. Matthew was almost knocked sideways by the force of Peter's emotional response.

**You are as bad as my father! Pigheaded, stubborn, always so accepting! Did it ever occur to you that he is afraid to approach you? Afraid that you still don't want to be part of him? Afraid that he can't be loved by you?**

**Peter, No! How could he be afraid of me? I am his father. He knows I love him.** Matthew was aghast at his grandson's thoughts, but then his own training took over, and he sighed and mentally shook his head, knowing how inadequate his thought-words were.

Peter, surprised that the link was still there after such an emotional outburst, forced himself to calm down again, and then said, **Grandfather, with all due respect, that attitude will keep you two apart, forever. I know! I had all those same feelings because I thought he had abandoned me. I knew he loved me. And he knew I loved him. But it still took over a year after we found each other, and both of us nearly dying again, for us to be able to expose those feelings and to start the healing process. It wasn't until I asked him about growing up with you that I realized he must still feel the same anger and guilt toward you.

**Grandfather, you are afraid that he with angry at you. He is afraid that you are angry with him. And you both are angry with yourselves for feeling this way. Please? Let me help?**

Matthew sat, his emotions attempting to wrestle away his control. Only his years of discipline kept him centered enough to stay linked with Peter. It took little time for him to realize that Peter was correct. His son was the Healer, but, he, too, was a Shaolin priest. And, as a Shaolin priest, he had helped the local people enough to accept Peter's reasoning. He had counseled others to reach out to loved ones, no matter who had caused the pain. Could he do no less? Especially since he had been the one who left. His love for Kwai Chang forced him to take any action that might work. -

**My dear grandson! You are correct; I am afraid that he will not want to talk with me. It has been so many years.**

Now it was Peter who was unsure. **Grandfather, perhaps I should talk to my father first? --Let him know that we will get together, say tomorrow, at this time?**

**No, Peter. If we do not do this now, he will find himself called away on an emergency at that time, and I may lose my resolve and not be available either. We have been a family separated by too many years and fears. I want my son to know he has a father who loves him.

**Peter, we will do it now. But I think you must make the connection.**

**Tell me what to do, Grandfather.**

**Do as you did to contact me--relax and focus on your father.**

Peter took a deep breath and again relaxed, letting his focus pull back a little ways from Matthew. He visualized his father working at his mixing table, brought the picture into focus, and called to him. **Father?**

**Peter?**

The joy in his father's reaction enveloped Peter. He could feel his father's presence in his mind.

Then the colors of his father's chi changed, just a little. First there were flickering elements of curiosity, then surprise, and finally pain (painted as pale greens, bright yellows, and orange-red on Kwai Chang's normal bright healer-green.) These added twinkles were almost immediately replaced with a steady cool blue shield of tolerance. The transition was so quick that Peter started to think he had imagined it--until he felt his grandfather's reaction to the same alterations.

**Hello, Father…Peter** Peter could feel his father's little bow that went with his formal words. **This is not a good time for this, Peter, Father. I am busy with...** Before Kwai Chang could finish his excuse and withdraw, Peter reacted.

Perhaps Peter's father had forgotten, in the shock of finding his own father visiting with Peter, how upset Peter invariably became when Kwai Chang closed himself from his son. Perhaps Kwai Chang Caine saw only the icon he had built to represent the father who had left him so long ago. Perhaps Matthew's son only felt himself try to close his mental doors on reminded pain.

Matthew and Peter both felt the doors closing within the third person; but the younger man was more familiar with the event and grabbed his father's attention first. He started to yell at his father.

**Pop, don't do this. Don't close him out.** He could feel Kwai Chang pause indecisively, so he continued, but in a more quiet tone. **I know you hurt, but don't you remember what you taught me?**

Peter almost sounded like his father as he quoted the Tao Te Ching. **'If you want to shrink something, you must first allow it to expand. If you want to get rid of something, you must first allow it to flourish. If you want to take something, you must first allow it to be given.' And, 'If you close your mind in judgments and traffic with desires, your heart will be troubled. If you keep your mind from judging and aren't led by the senses, your heart will find peace'.** The mental response he received from his father and his grandfather was of them both looking at him in surprise.

His father said, with a small smile, **You have been studying, Peter. I am impressed.**

**Damn it! Pop, I am not trying to impress you. I want you to help my Grandfather to open up to you.** Addressing the other, **Grandfather, please help my father.**

Then, **Both of you, don't you see that you must talk about your feelings for each other?**

Peter focused again on his father. **Pop … Father, you've told me you avoided many subjects to spare my feelings.**

Mentally, he turned to include his grandfather. **This is what you are both pretending to be doing. You are lying to each other!** Telepathically, Peter was turning up the force behind his words; he aimed for his father again. **Just like you lied to me, Pop.**

**I was not lying to you, Peter.**

**Bullshit! You were too lying to me. Father.** Although they were communicating mentally, the force behind his words hit almost like physical blows. **You weren't 'sparing my feelings'; you were trying to protect yourself from my reactions. You were afraid of my jealousy and rage if I knew you had found people to love while I thought you were dead.** His tone softened. **But you found out you were wrong, didn't you?** it was more a statement of fact than a question. **I was happy for you! And I was worried about your reaction to my foster family. The Blaisdells found me and loved me. So I felt guilty that I had people who loved me when I thought you hadn't. Remember? Remember how we felt when we finally started talking? Please give your father the chance to share in what we've been building? Please stop pretending to 'spare the other's feelings' and let it out.**

Kwai Chang started to protest once more that he felt neither rage nor guilt; but realized immediately that he would be lying, and had been lying to himself. If he could admit those emotions, and the fear, too, to Paul Blaisdell so long ago, why could he not to his own father?

**Sounds from the same flute, indeed!** Unbending just a bit, he addressed the other two,

**This is very difficult for me.**

He and his son felt the older man sigh, **And for me, my son; but, Peter is right.**

Taking a deep breath, and allowing tinges of the grief and rage he had felt, still felt, to color his thought-words, Kwai Chang began, **Father, you left me--**

Matthew had already told Peter of the regrets and grief he harbored within himself; he must try to share the same with his son. Taking a deep breath, and allowing tinges of the grief and rage he had felt, still felt, to color his thought-words, Matthew began, **The monks told me--**

The discomfort with which Matthew and his son had been contemplating each other evaporated. Each man, acknowledging that his own barrier was rapidly disappearing, and feeling the vacuum created by the other's vanishing barrier, began to extend loving reassurances and to offer apologies. After just a few such exchanges, they both stopped and turned their attention to Peter.

His chi was starting to fade. He was still new at this, the press of his arguments had cost him much energy, and he was tiring rapidly.

As of one mind, the two parents sent a mental hug to Peter; in unison, they said **Thank you, Peter;** together, they thrust a mental suggestion into the back of Peter's mind. Before the young man knew he'd been dismissed, he was asleep.

**He will not forgive us for that, my son.**

Kwai Chang could feel the twinkle in his father's words and responded with a father's loving tone. **Not right away. But we have learned how to talk things out.**

**As you and I are about to.**
The two men, father and son, well over 2000 miles and an ocean apart, linked by mind and blood, began to fill in the chasm between their hearts with the stuff and nonsense of their lives.

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