The television screen was frozen on the scene of Kacie when she had awakened from her hypnosis session. Leaning forward over the table toward Caine, Ramsay asked, "How did you feel about the story your daughter-in-law told, Mr. Caine?"
Caine shrugged. "It was not a story. She told only what she saw and experienced."
"But how did you feel when you heard it?"
"I do not understand."
Ramsay emitted a frustrated growl. "I mean, how did you feel when you heard her describe her treatment in captivity? How did you -- as a man, and a father, and a prospective grandfather -- react to the situation she told of?"
"I...had compassion for her terror. Relief that she was not killed."
"What about the guy that attacked her?"
Caine's face was carved of stone. "His evil is at an end. There is no point in thinking of him."
Brandl stopped doodling on his note pad and asked softly, "How do you feel about the man who killed Fischer? The man who saved Mrs. Caine from any further sexual abuse?"
"I am thankful he saved her life. I am grateful he was there."
"Grateful enough to conceal his identity?" Ramsay demanded.
"No."
Brandl looked surprised. "What do you mean, 'no'? Are you saying that you don't owe the man a debt of silence?"
"The man is considered a criminal. I owe no debt to a man such as that."
"If that is the case, Mr. Caine, why haven't you been more helpful to us?" Ramsay was plainly dumbfounded. "Why can't you tell us who he is?"
"I cannot tell you what I do not know."
"Oh, come on, Caine. How many Shaolin priests are there in Chinatown? Those brands on your arm aren't exactly something you can pick up at the local tattoo parlor!" Ramsay's face reddened and he scowled. "We want names!"
Caine sighed and explained slowly, much as a long-suffering teacher would repeat a lesson to a student who refused to pay attention, "I do not know any names. The only Shaolin masters that I know of in Chinatown are the Ancient and myself."
"Well, obviously there are more than that!" Ramsay exploded.
Caine shrugged. "Anything is possible. I only tell you what I know."
Brandl shook his head and snorted softly. "Mr. Caine, let me be straight with you. Other than your daughter-in-law's taped session here, we have absolutely no clues to the identity of Fischer's murderer. His sister is raising hell with everybody from the mayor's office to our precinct captain because we aren't finding the guy. Is there anything you can tell us that would help? Anything at all?"
"Have you shown this shurkin to those who make them?"
Ramsay and Brandl stared at one another, then at Caine. "Why?" Brandl asked. "What good would that do?"
"The weapon you showed me was obviously crafted by a master. A master always leaves his mark on his work." He pursed his lips and searched the air for his words. "Much as the colonial silversmiths marked their ware. Or a mint will mark its coins."
Ramsay's jaw dropped. "I didn't know that."
Caine's lips twitched suspiciously. "Now you do."
Brandl was unable to hide a smile. "You're a very clever man, Mr. Caine."
Caine shrugged his shoulder. "You asked for my help. Before you only asked questions."
Ramsay looked at Caine with grudging admiration. "Mr. Caine, I would like to apologize for our...my...treatment of you in past circumstances. I don't meet many men like you, and I'm sorry for behaving so rudely."
Nodding slightly, Caine said, "You have a job to do, as do I. Sometimes our thoughts are correct, but our methods are not."
"Mr. Caine, do you have any idea about how we could find this mystery priest? He is a Shaolin priest, isn't he, to have brands such as yours?" Brandl sat with pencil poised above his note pad.
"Yes. He must have completed his training, ascending to a higher plane, in order to receive the brands."
"How do we find him?" Ramsay's question was sincere and minus his usual sarcasm.
"You must look."
"Where, Mr. Caine?" Brandl unconsciously leaned toward Caine, nearly holding his breath with anticipation.
"Chinatown."
"That won't do us any good, Mr. Caine. The people there don't trust us because we're not...from their culture." Ramsay flushed in embarrassment. "As you well know, they're a closed society."
"I will help you. The people there trust me. But even I cannot push. This may take time, more time than you like."
The two detectives rose to their feet, and Caine followed suit. Ramsay awkwardly extended his hand, and Caine shook it firmly. "Mr. Caine, with what you've told us today, we at least have a start. That's more than we had yesterday. We can be patient, but I don't think Fischer's sister will be."
Brandl also shook hands with Caine. "Thank you, Master Caine. That's your proper title, isn't it?"
Caine nodded slightly.
The officer's face sobered and he warned, "I'm afraid that woman is going to try to make life very unpleasant for your family. Please watch out for her. A thirst for revenge makes some people do strange things."
"Your concern does you honor, Detective." Caine bowed to the men and gestured toward the door. "May I go?"
The detectives watched as Caine exited and, as before, made no sound.
Ramsay stared at Brandl and shook his head. "How does he do that?"