Peter and Kermit joined the horde driving onto the parking lot of the Sloanville Shopping Mall. The horde was there to take advantage of the Last Sunday sale; Peter and Kermit were there to find Jeff Stile's killer. The two detectives had waited until the Mall was open, hoping to arrive unnoticed.

The two men were still peeved and bemused that Carolyn came up with this location before they did. They did have to admit that only a shopper would have put together fern spores, perfume oils, polyester fibers, and leather dust on a dead body and come up with a department store. It only helped their egos a little that it didn't occur to her until after they had searched the city records for hours. Finding the particular department store they needed was easy after that. There was only one such store that had closed recently enough for those substances to be still floating within.

Even though the store was boarded up, the loading dock was open, as if waiting for a delivery. The two men lucked into a parking spot only one row from the dock. They strolled casually to the opening, acting as if they worked there. Once inside the huge doorway, they drew their guns, opened the door into the receiving area, and entered.

Two men, with automatic rifles raised, stepped out of the shadows to greet them. Peter and Kermit exchanged glances, and, with hands in the air, continued to walk into the bay. The plan had been to search the store; they didn't particularly wish to shoot their way in. Putting any guards present to sleep was preferable to explaining unnecessarily dead bodies. However, the decision was taken out of their hands. They did not see the two men with the spray bottles step up behind them. They might have heard the hiss of the knockout gas, but they had no time to react.

When Kermit came to, he experienced an unusual, brief moment of panic --he could not move a muscle below his neck. He could feel ropes around his upper body, tying him to the chair, but they seemed to be needed only to keep him upright. Shit, we walked into that like rookies! He was very groggy and shook his head trying to clear it. As he did so, he used the motion to look for Peter. Damn, the sunglasses are gone!" Everything was fuzzy, not that the glasses would have made a difference; he could just make out the other detective, looking like a rag doll, lying against a wall, apparently still unconscious.

"Your head's not going to clear any time soon, Kermit."

The voice was familiar. A figure moved around to where he could see her.

Kermit was trying to prepare mentally for the next phase of this what, mission? He didn't know why he couldn't move, and he didn't know what this woman wanted. He was starting to get a feel for where he was, who else was here, and where they all were; but as yet had no answers to the questions that brought them here. It seemed to him, though, it was much more difficult than usual to go through the checklist he used in times like these…His mind was beginning to churn. Before it went completely out of his control, one thought did rise up, like a cue card with the identity of the woman in front of him. Marne Pasteur. …Pasteur? Well, why not? She never was very far behind Rogres. But-

Pasteur was speaking. "While you were sleeping, I injected both you and your friend over there with a curare derivative; it will keep you both immobilized for several hours, plenty long enough to conduct our business and for me to disappear. You got a special treat, a second drug--a kind of truth serum.

"I really expected it would be that bitch, Terri Cooper, who would walk into my trap. After all, I sent her a note telling her to be here by 10 AM if she wanted to get her hands on the person who killed her boy friend. I figured that would bring her on the run. I never expected two cops to show up. I really wanted her to come. She and that asshole boyfriend of hers killed my partner. But, as long as you're here, it's just possible you know where it is…" She got a crafty look in her eyes as she peered over at him. "You were Blaisdell's computer man; you know the value of computer data. Maybe you figured out what they were doing, and got the disk from them."

She paced in front of him. "I want some information out of you, dear boy. And, while my associates would love to beat it out of you, that would take too long. If it worked at all. You might spill if they worked over your friend over there instead, but that would still take too long. I want out of here before this mall closes." She laughed, "Can you imagine a better hiding place? A shopping mall, with deliveries and people coming and going all day and evening, all without looking suspicious. We just melt into the crowd. I love it!"

She stopped and looked at her captive. "See, I remember you; and I especially remember the one thing you hate more than any other-to be out of control."

Kermit wasn't really listening, he was already experiencing her threat. His attention was almost completely caught up in memories, painful memories. Somehow, all the locked doors in his mind were opening, and he could not shut them. His struggle to control his thoughts only succeeded in making him sweat. Pictures floated before his mind's eye, movies presented in IMAX clarity, complete with surround sound! The first scene was of him, standing at his father's gravesite, standing stiff as a soldier, listening to all the words of condolence. Unbidden, the words he'd not said then popped into his mind, Papa, O Papa, why did you have to die, so easily? He tasted the tears running down his throat.

To his horror, he heard his thoughts with his ears.

Marne Pasteur laughed.

What's so damned funny? Again, he heard his thoughts out loud.

"Why, Kermit; you can cry." The other mercenary was mocking him. "You're feeling the effects of the truth serum. And this is a very special truth serum. No ordinary sodium pentothol for Kermit Griffin. I'd never know if I was getting the truth or not.

"Some genius took propofol (diisopropylphenol) and doped it with something. He created this delightful drug that lowers a number of inhibitions. Answers will pop out just because I ask. Isn't that great? But even better, as far as you're concerned..."

The mercenary-turned-detective knew he was resistant to any method of getting information out of him, save the polite request from the appropriate party. He was not worried about that. Even the thought of Marne Pasteur threatening to use Peter as hostage didn't particularly concern him--as long as it stayed only a threat. However, what did scare the hell out of him was the auto-verbalization of his thoughts, and the fact that those thoughts were full of old suppressed memories.

She was talking again. "Oh, yes. I know how you hate for anyone to see you lose your cool. What you've experienced is just the beginning." She laughed cruelly. "The most amazing side effect of this drug has psycho-therapists clamoring for it-the negative emotions come flooding out. And you're getting it for free. "I'm going to keep injecting you with this until you pass your tolerance level. You will tell me everything I want to know and a lot I don't care to hear."

Kermit was past 'starting to sweat' and heading for panic! He'd kept a tight lid on an alpine mountain of emotional garbage and had no desire to start sharing, much less to share it with this person in front of him. However, none of his or Peter's--if only the kid would stop playing dead and come do something--magic tricks would release the paralysis and get him out of these ropes! Yet if it turned out he did know what she wanted, he certainly did not want her to get it - Do I have a choice?

"No, Kermit. You do not have a choice."

I didn't hear me say that! He was angry as well as frightened at being in this position, and even angrier because the drug was allowing her to see that.

"You should listen to yourself more carefully, Kermie, dear. Now, you should know this, too. There is an antidote. But you only get it when I'm sure you've told me what I want to know."

It's bound to wear off eventually. A tendril of hope had risen from his store of knowledge of drugs.

"In the drug trials they've done, it took hours and sometimes days for the normal dosage to wear off. I'm giving you much more than the 'normal' dose. This may not wear off. Just think of it, Kermit. All emotional control gone, permanently. Wouldn't you just love that?

"Make it easy on yourself, love, tell me now. Where is the disk?"

Kermit's psyche was starting breaking apart. Emotions he had stowed away in the back corners of the basement of his mind were flooding his consciousness, along with the memories that triggered them. With no working muscles, his body still struggled, unsuccessfully, as much against the pain and anger carried within the memories, as against the paralysis and ropes that bound him. He tried to separate himself from the anguish, to find an island within himself where he could hide, but it was too late, the flood had already entrapped him.

He could hear himself, again: he was rambling, floating randomly through his history: raging here against Blaisdell for an almost-skewed mission, there against his brother for dying too soon; against someone else for some real or imagined bruise. His voice rose and fell randomly through his tirade. The sobbing was a constant part of his voice. That can't be me! It can't be! I don't cry!

"Even soldiers cry, Kermit." A voice from somewhere…her?

A small mirage of an oasis floated through his turbulent thoughts--a computer disk; where was the disk…

And her voice above the roar in his mind, "Yes, the disk; where is it?"

Unformatted, uncensored, his response grew to a scream, "In my desk, in my damn pockets, what fucking disk do you mean?" Then he went back to his rambles, with an occasional oh, god! Make it stop!

After checking to make sure her tape recorder was still functioning, just in case her victim let out something she could get someone else to buy, she continued prodding him.

"You're the computer geek, Griffin. You're the one Blaisdell always came to for any computer work. You're the one I expect would end up with the disk Lil was carrying when she was killed.

"I saw Stiles kill her after she accidentally killed her mark. She wasn't a great shot; does mainly data gathering, although she does…did an occasional kidnapping. I told her to pick another way of grabbing him; to hire help; but this was easier for her. Lazy bitch! So instead of wounding him, incapacitating him, she accidentally kills him instead. Then that lousy Jeff Stiles kills her"

Pasteur's words nearly caused a stroke in Peter. He'd been awake for several few minutes, listening to the odd conversation, sure that the words he'd been hearing were part of a dream. But when he heard "accidentally killed," he tried to jump up to attack her. Only, his body did not work. He was paralyzed.

As he started to panic, he heard his father in his mind, **Peter, do not struggle! You are all right. You have been given a drug to temporarily immobilize you. The drug will shortly wear off. Do not move until I tell you. Kermit's life and sanity depend on you pretending to still be drugged.**

Peter responded in kind, but not so calmly, **What the hell happened?** He could feel his father's flinch and he forced himself to relax a little. **Father, can you hear what is going on here? Are you going to rescue us soon? Like, Now?**

His father responded, **No, I cannot hear any but you. But I can feel Kermit. His emotional trauma is affecting all of us out here; the others do not understand why they are uncomfortable.**

Peter: **The others? There are others out there? Why are you waiting?** The fear was fading quickly, to be replaced by anger. What kind of game was going on here?

**Your Captain Simms and Captain Lasher are here with their teams, waiting for the right moment. Carolyn did as you instructed and called in shortly after you left.**

The young detective could hear Kermit engaged in a one-sided conversation, apparently with Paul about some mission where he'd lost members of his team. It was embarrassing to hear the crying; he could feel the horror within Kermit for his inability to control it.

**Pop, is this another puzzle for me to reason out? Just what is the right moment? You know, Kermit is going through hell here. I've never seen him like this.** The young man's concern for his friend was evident.

**It will come, soon. Peter, when this is finished, Kermit must never know that you saw or heard him in his distress. It is difficult enough for him to be experiencing the emotions he has hidden so long.**

**Pop, that is a good reason to cut it short! What are you waiting for?**

**Peter, it is necessary that Kermit let out what he has locked away so long. Better it come out here, under coercion, than later, with friends who will never be forgiven for understanding.**

**Father, she is asking him about a disk. Do you know what she's talking about?**

**No, my son, I do not.**

Peter thought for a few seconds. He remembered, from what he had thought was a dream, that the dead assassin had had it, and this assassin thought it had been removed by Jeff Stiles. It occurred to him there was another possibility. He cleared his mind and centered himself. This is getting easier and easier; but, is it possible for me to do this here?

He pictured his grandfather and called to him. The response was so quick that Peter was suspicious the old man had also been listening to him.

**Peter, I was merely aware of your situation, your father has assured me you are in minimal danger; I was not 'listening.'**

Peter had no time for pleasantries, but did strive to be polite. **Grandfather, please. When you found the two bodies, did you find a computer disk on the assassin?** He hoped he wouldn't have to explain that term.

His grandfather's laugh carried across the miles, **Do you remember when your friend called the local doctor here, and I was near the telephone? The doctor and I are longtime friends. We were enjoying a game of chess when you called. She has a computer; so, yes, I am familiar with the term.

**We were taking a walk when we saw the assassin shoot your friend and the young man shoot the assassin. We were not close enough to be able to stop either shooting, but we did bring the bodies back to my friend's clinic. We found a disk when we searched the assassin. But we could not read it.**

**Thank you, Grandfather.**

Having had some practice the day before in this technique, Peter felt comfortable in requesting his father join this conversation. He mentally backed up from his grandfather and called to his father.

To Peter's surprise, Kwai Chang spoke directly to Matthew, **You have the disk, Father?** It was a measure of the concern that Caine felt over the current situation that he also skipped the formal greetings. He then addressed his son, **It was logical to try your Grandfather next, Peter. And you did not close off the …channel? with me before you called him.**

**Well, Father,** Peter responded, **was I supposed to put you to sleep to end the 'call'?**

All three laughed, and then Kwai Chang told Peter to leave his mind open so that he could hear what was going on. **Be ready for my signal, my son.**

Meanwhile, Pasteur had been alternating between asking Kermit for the disk and ranting about her partner's death and the two people responsible. Twice she had given him another injection when his tirades had slowed down.

Kermit was close to unconsciousness, but his mind was still hyperactive. His struggling to fight the drug-induced memories was all that was keeping his body as awake as it was. He could just barely hear Pasteur above the clamor of the ghosts that had dwelled in the padlocked archives of his mind, but her words made no sense.

For the last two hours, people from incidents from his past to which he had any guilt or anger attached had been parading before his mind's eye. All the words he had not been able to say to those people then, were flowing now from his mouth like lava--hot, destructive, and out of control. Every rock of guilt and recrimination relating to those incidents was rolling along with the lava. The shell he had built to protect himself and his friends from what he saw as an anti-social soul was being eroded rapidly.

Peter knew that, before long, his friend would reach the limits of his endurance, and Kermit's sanity might well be the casualty. He visualized a dual connection to his grandfather and to his father. **Look, we need to help Kermit. Pop, can't you bring Simms in now?**

Kwai Chang mentally shook his head, saying **No, there are more people involved in this. They will enter your area soon. We must wait for them.**

Peter asked, **Well, could we at least tell him where the disk is? He could let her know, and she'd give him the antidote.** Before his father could remind him that Kermit wouldn't want to give her the information, he continued, **The way Kermit is rambling, if we could slip the information into his mind; he would babble it out, without knowing. We could explain it later as a diversion, since we know she won't get the disk anyhow.**

All three agreed the plan was feasible. Kwai Chang told his son how to do it, and within seconds, Kermit had babbled out that the disk was with Matthew in Ste. Adele, France.

Marne Pasteur was very pleased with herself. She had found a way to break the Great Kermit Griffin. She was tempted to leave her two captives there and depart immediately, but she did follow some semblance of a code. She gave Griffin his antidote.

She had no sooner completed the injection when she heard a gun go off behind her. She spun around to yell at the culprit and saw Terri Cooper with two unknown men, one of whom was lowering his gun to his side.

She was tired and elated and careless; she was finished here and wanted to leave. In her zeal to play with the mercenary she had captured, she had forgotten about the note she had sent to lure Terri Cooper, the survivor of the pair who had hired her partner, to this place. Now that survivor was here, with reinforcements.

She had no weapon at hand but her bravado, not having needed gun or knife to deal with her two immobilized captives. Her concealed weapons were not where she could pull them easily. She faced the trio and demanded to know why they were there.

"My goddaughter," stated former SWAT commander Bartlett Stiles, "swears that Peter Caine killed my son. But you sent her this note to get her here, into your trap." He had scanned the area, recognized a sprung trap, and ignored the victims. "So you killed Jeff, my son, and you were planning to kill her, too". His calm exterior did not mask the cold fury within him.

Peter almost jumped up at the sound of Stiles' voice. **Pop, he's supposed to be in prison. How'd he get here?**

It took all his training to not react a moment later, when he was kicked, hard, in his ribs, and then heard, "Well, well, what have we here? Bart, Paul's golden boy is over here." Ex-commissioner Frank Cooper had strolled around the area until he spotted the lump on the ground that was Peter Caine.

Cooper addressed Pasteur, 'What did you do, drug them?"

He went over to look closely at Kermit. "I saw you give him an injection. He was babbling something about a disk, and then he shut up." Cooper looked back at Stiles, "I think there's a lot more going on; and I think we want to know what it is."

"Maybe you do, but I just want revenge for my son." Stiles had had only one thought in mind since hearing about his son's death.

Cooper disagreed. "Before we kill her, I want to know what she thought they knew that was so important she were willing to torture our children to death."

Stiles began to argue with Cooper about their purpose in coming to this place. As they argued, they managed to keep their guns trained on Pasteur and her two remaining henchmen. They had taken out the two men on guard at the loading dock when they arrived. Apparently, the receiving area was sufficiently soundproofed that no warning had penetrated this far into the store. Since they had had the note, they had come straight to this credit office, per Pasteur's instructions. They had not seen the police because Kwai Chang Caine could sense where his son was, so the police had stationed themselves well away from the direct route.

With Cooper and Stiles arguing, and Pasteur trying to offer a trade for her life, Peter felt it was safe to open his eyes just a little, to be ready for when he could fight. **Pop, Kermit's moving his fingers. That paralysis drug must be wearing off. Too bad you can't tell him to wait.**

**You can't, but I can.** Matthew could see Kermit's image in Peter's mind. He wasn't as strong a telepath as his son, or even his grandson, but he had had more practice in his travels and had developed the skill. And Kermit still had all his barriers down--the antidote would take an hour or so more to complete its work--making his task much easier.

The ex-mercenary was leaning against the ropes holding him in the chair, slowly testing each muscle group for control and strength. He was listening to the new arrivals with great interest, waiting for an opportune moment to attack. The injected antidote had not completely stilled the interior voices, but there was now only one image confronting him. Oddly enough, this was an image of a stranger…well, no…he did look almost familiar…no, it wasn't. When the image spoke, the words were so different from what he'd recently been subjected to.

**Kermit Griffin. I am Matthew Caine, father to Kwai Chang, grandfather to Peter.**

Great, now I have the whole Caine line to deal with. He was surprised, but pleased, that finally the words stayed only in his mind.

**You know she gave you the antidote. You also know the paralysis is wearing off. You must pretend for a while longer. You will be told when it is safe.**

Kermit's next thought was of his partner, **Is Peter okay? He's been awfully quiet over there.**

**He is fine. He will rouse shortly. Perhaps he got more of the knockout drug than you did?** Technically he was not lying; he did not say Peter was asleep, he just let the other infer it from his words.

Kermit suddenly got the impression that Matthew was listening to something and then was about to say something else when there was a shot, followed immediately by two more.

He and Peter both felt a distinct shove in their minds and heard a mental shout, **Now!**

Both men rolled to one side, Kermit managing to lose the chair at the same time. The ropes had only been tied at chest level, to keep him upright. When Kermit rolled, the chair slipped behind and below him; the ropes stayed with him, but were now loose enough to fall off.

As they stood up, they heard Terri Cooper go into hysterics. They pivoted around, looking for somebody to fight. The only other men standing were the goons working for Pasteur and they were only interested in finding the nearest exit--where they were greeted by blue uniforms.

As the cavalry rushed into the room, Kermit and Peter both collapsed.

Captain Simms and Caine led the troops into the area and immediately ran to Kermit and Peter. Officers spread out behind them to secure the area. Someone called for paramedics for the two collapsed detectives; someone else called them for Cooper and both Stiles'.

Pasteur, Cooper, and Stiles were down. It would be decided later that Stiles had finished the argument with Cooper by shooting his son's killer; and then her men had shot them. Pasteur was dead, the other two seriously wounded. Terri had retreated from the hysterics into her mind.

Caine made a show of checking Peter over, both knowing that the collapse had been a ruse for Kermit's sake. If Kermit was unable to stand so soon after the drug had begun to wear off, then Peter should also have been unable.

On her way over to the object of her concern, Simms spotted his sunglasses next to a tape recorder, still running. She picked the glasses up to return to their owner and continued over to him. It was then she realized that Griffin was not awake. She quickly called Caine over.

Father and son looked at each other; Kwai Chang gave a shrug, with just a hint of a smile, and mentally reminded Peter that the ex-mercenary did not need to be questioned right now.

Caine and one of the paramedics responded to Captain Simms' request together. While the paramedic examined Kermit, Caine wandered over to the table, picked up the vials, and palmed the tape. He showed one of the vials to the paramedic who looked at the label and grinned. "This is a variation of propofol, which is used mainly as an anesthesia. Your man is asleep, Captain, and may be for a while."

The paramedics prepared Kermit and Peter for transport to the hospital where they could be properly checked out for residual effects.

Caine turned to face Captain Simms but addressed his remarks also to Peter and the two paramedics: "The drugs seem have almost left their systems. There may be some short-term residual effect, but no long term. I do not believe we need Kermit to donate a blood sample to isolate this new drug. The paramedic has the vial. There is no other reason for either to be taken to the hospital."

Captain Simms and the paramedics agreed reluctantly, but she was still concerned. "It may take a while before Kermit can move easily on his own. Where will you take him?"

Peter suggested that, since he and Kermit had been staying at the Blaisdell house, they all return there. He was feeling much better already, and since Kermit wasn't that much older than him and of similar body mass, Kermit would shortly be fine, too.

With Captain Simms agreeing to provide transport, they started to leave. As Captain Lasher came over to them, Simms stopped and addressed the others, "The captain here has been asking me since we got here why we came. I want to know the same thing. Now!" As captain of these two, she would have to answer to the Commissioner for this escapade.

Peter gave his father's shrug and said he could only tell so much: "We figured out that Jeff Stiles had been held here before he was killed. So we came to check out the place. We walked into a trap. I was knocked out almost as soon as we walked into the place; I woke up when the shooting started. Now you know as much as I do." He came across almost convincingly as if he felt as stupid as his statement sounded.

Captain Simms did not completely believe him. Master Caine had persuaded her to not storm the premises until he told her to. She was sure that Master Caine had been relying on Peter for that cue. There had to be a reason for the lack of information now. Perhaps she would find out when she got them to the Blaisdell residence.

Since Simms did not push for more, Lasher gave up, saying something about expecting to see the report on Monday.

The Simms group left; the rest of the police took care of the bodies, the escaped prisoners, and the young now-catatonic woman.

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