Chapter Five
Sha-ku looked around at his fallen men. “Very good,” he murmured. “These men were my best. Obviously not good enough for the great Four Winds. Or should I say three?” He cast a quick glance at the bound figure beside him.
The figure glared up at him in return. Bound so tightly he couldn’t move, face mostly obscured by the gag and ropes holding his head still, those eyes were unmistakable. And they held rage and the promise of great pain if he was released.
“Mike?” Micky whispered, his face gone ashen pale.
The eyes swung to him, and there was no more doubt.
“Mike!” Peter roared, moving toward him.
Mike made a strangled gasp from behind his gag as one of the men holding him shifted, revealing the knife digging into Mike’s ribs.
“One more step forward and he’ll have another hole in his body,” Sha-ku warned.
Peter froze instantly. “Another?”
“If you’ve hurt him I’ll kill you!” Micky raged, his tense body bouncing in place.
“Relax, Dolenz. He’s been most uncomfortable these past few days, but he’s otherwise unharmed.” Sha-ku reached out and roughly pinched Mike’s cheek, elicting a terrible growl from the Texan.
“How long have you had him prisoner?” Peter growled in return, jaw set so hard Davy could imagine he heard teeth grinding. “And why?”
“Three days,” Sha-ku said, apparently unimpressed by Peter’s anger. “It was necessary.”
“Necessary? Why was it necessary?”
“To solve a mystery.”
Davy growled, “We don’t like riddles, Sha-ku. Speak plainly.”
“Four musicians who suddenly have the power to fight far beyond most people—even people who’ve trained all their lives. That is overwhelmingly unfair, don’t you think?”
They looked at each other, then back at him. Three chins raised defiantly as they remained silent.
“Mr. Nesmith here has proven most unwilling to cooperate. So I had to go elsewhere to find what I needed.”
“You used me,” Micky ground out softly, coldly.
“You?” Sha-ku sneered. “Yes, Mr. Dolenz, you helped. Brenda’s feminine charms helped you to open up quite nicely, but it was a certain Chinese gentlemen’s imput that was most enlightening.”
Mike’s face drained of all color and he began thrashing against the arms that held him, a litany of raging curses emerging from behind the gag.
The others were just as pale. “What have you done to Mister Liang?” Peter demanded.
“Nothing. At least . . . nothing that you’re thinking of. A few drinks does wonders for loosening the tongue. He even showed me the room where he kept the tea that he gave you.” With a flourish he produced a small white envelope. A tea bag. “This will return you all to your original states.”
“Why would we want to do that?” Davy asked.
“Because if you don’t we’ll kill your friend here,” the man holding Mike’s left arm said. Mike shook his head wildly.
Peter locked eyes with Mike as he spoke to Sha-ku. “We’ll do it.”
Mike’s eyes closed and his body slumped.
Sha-ku snapped his fingers and one of the skinny newbies brought over a small teapot. He dumped the tea in, stirring it carefully. “Who’s first?”
“I am,” Peter said, stepping forward.
Peter drank from the cup, then handed it to Micky. Micky took a deep breath and took a drink, gagging and handing it to Davy, who took a drink, shuddering wildly. Mike just watched, his eyes huge and mournful. Peter then took the cup and walked over to Mike.
“Take out his gag,” Sha-ku said approvingly. One of his men obiediently yanked the cloth from Mike’s mouth.
Peter helped Mike sip the tea, his own eyes large and sad.
“What . . . happens to us now?” Davy said, rubbing the back of his neck from force of habit. Was his tattoo still there?
“You go back to your boring little lives and stay out of the way,” Sha-ku said.
“Of what?” Peter asked, starting to untie Mike.
Sha-ku grabbed Peter and shoved him away. “Of my business. Your days of being busybodies are over.”
“And just what is your business?” Micky asked, flexing and unflexing his fingers. “Peter . . . my fingers feel clumsy . . . ”
“My business is none of yours,” Sha-ku snapped. He seized Mike and shoved him towards them. “Take him and go. Interfere with me, and you’ll pay the price.”
Mike hit the floor with a pained grunt. Peter helped him up and untied him the rest of the way.
“I think we have a right to ask your business,” Peter said as he dusted Mike off. “Considering you’ve just altered our lives irrevocably.”
“Peter, what’s goin’ on?” Mike whispered. “I don’t feel any diff—” He stopped when he saw Peter’s imperceptible grin and quick wink.
Davy swayed slightly. He took a step forward and seemed to trip over his own feet, grabbing onto Mike on the way down. Mike just nodded, reaching out to grasp Davy’s arm. The muscles were tight and ready to spring.
“Yeah, man,” Micky said, fumbling his way to Peter’s side. “You’ve stilled the Winds; I think you owe us at least an explanation.”
Sha-ku mused for a few moments. “Very well. This gym will be a marvel of health and fitness . . . and money. Desperate, willing souls will flood here in earnest in the search for bodies of iron, and I will provide them. At a cost.” His smile deepened. “And if they prove too weak . . . ” He shrugged.
“They’ll die?” Davy asked, injecting a note of fear into his voice.
Micky’s eyes narrowed. “You tried to set me up . . . get me in here . . . why?”
“First of all, no one will die unless they want to. Those who are too weak will be turned away—I’ll keep the money, of course.” Sha-ku narrowed his bespectacled eyes as they settled on Micky. “You said no. No one tells me no—no one can refuse me.”
“Geesh, where’d you get that lame idea?” Micky snarled.
“Look at you!” Sha-ku sneered. “All of you! Skinny, awkward, short—” His lip curled as he directed the comment to Davy, “And now without your ‘powers’ you’ve been returned to how you should be.” He leaned back on his heels as several of his recovered men started advancing on them.
“Peter, I can’t fight,” Mike murmured. “Everythin’ hurts.”
“Easy,” Peter whispered back. “Let us take care of you . . . ” They closed ranks around Mike, falling into three identical poses—awkward fighting stances, hands upraised in fists.
“Sha-ku, wait, w-we can talk about this,” Mike said, looking around wildly as the men closed in. He didn’t know why the tea had affected them and not him—he still had his abilities, but it was taking an enormous amount of energy just to keep his aching body upright.
“Yeah, we really don’t want to fight,” Davy said, while Micky made an exaggerated ‘boxer’ dance.
“Two hundred dollars apiece, including Nesmith, and I’ll let you go.”
Peter blinked. “We don’t have that kind of money on us.”
“What a shame.” Sha-ku gave a stiff-armed gesture and his men pounced on the Monkees. With cries of fear the trio surrounding Mike went down under the bodies.
Two beats later, the first of Sha-ku’s men was thrown off of a Monkee—Davy vaulted easily to his feet and drove a roundhouse kick to the side of another man, knocking him aside just enough for Peter to get some leverage. Peter rolled out of the way and kicked out, catching the man in the side of the head and knocking him out cold.
Then it was Micky’s turn. He kick-vaulted the man over his head and sprang to his feet. Whirling to face him, his stance relaxed and alert, Mike caught a look at the back of his neck as the curls flew.
The dragon tattoo was intact.
“Looks like you got tricked, Sha-ku,” Mike said, his stubbled face breaking out into a smile.
His calm, sneering veneer gone, Sha-ku leaped forward with an angry shout, smashing shoulder-first into Mike, whose battered body couldn’t move fast enough to get out of the way.
Peter’s foot smashed into Sha-ku’s side, whirling him away from Mike and into Davy’s line of attack. Davy’s booted heels smashed into Sha-ku’s stomach at the same time Micky’s foot hit him in the back.
Peter was by Mike’s side, helping him back to his feet. “You’ll be okay . . . .”
“Peter, do me a favor?”
“What’s that?”
Mike pointed at Sha-ku. “Get him.”
Peter nodded and advanced on the man with a grin that could only be described as feral.
~~~~~
The police officers arrived en masse, quickly taking Bulk and the others into custody and taking statements from the ‘weaklings’ Sha-ku had bilked. Mike firmly waved away any offers of help, preferring instead to lean on Micky and Peter as several officers took care of Sha-ku.
“How did you get him up there?” one of them asked as Sha-ku was lowered from where he’d been hanging upside down by one ankle.
“Quick on the ropes,” was Peter’s cryptic answer.
“I would have won if the old man hadn’t tricked me,” Sha-ku ground out as the officers dragged him past Mike.
“Liang,” Davy whispered. “We need to find him.”
“Jo Liang? The man who owns the Chinese restaurant on Fifth?” a nearby officer asked.
“Yes,” the quartet said as one.
“He’s fine,” the officer said, looking puzzled. “He’s the one who called us.”
“Thank heaven,” Davy whispered, clutching Peter’s arm reflexively.
“Where is he?” Micky asked.
“His restaurant. When Mr. Sha-ku there came to see him, he called us right after he left, concerned about you boys.”
“Let’s get there,” Micky said.
Peter shook his head. “No, we need to get home. Mike’s about to pass out.”
“No, I’m fine,” Mike said, even as he sagged.
“Sure you are. Micky, help me.”
Micky pulled one of Mike’s arms around his shoulders as Peter supported his other side; together they helped Mike outside, trying to ignore the shocked and sympathetic looks Sha-ku’s victims were shooting them. “Wish they wouldn’t do that,” Mike muttered.
“Do what?” Micky asked.
“Look at me like I’m some kinda cripple or somethin’,” he said, shaking them off and crawling into the front seat of the Monkeemobile unaided.
“Mike, they held you prisoner for three days. You haven’t had anything to eat and barely anything to drink. You’re sore and tired and badly in need of a hot meal, a shower, and a good long sleep. No one’s pitying you, okay?” Peter walked around the front and got behind the wheel. “Least of all us.”
“Got that right,” Micky said. “You’re ripe!”
“Micky, when I have the energy, you’ll pay for that,” Mike said.
“I don’t doubt it,” He chuckled. “Damn, we missed you.”
Mike drummed his fingers on the edge of the car door, using his sleeve to smooth out a smudge on the bright red paint. “I missed you guys, too.”
“Next time you get an urge to visit your Aunt Kate?” Peter said as he pulled the car into traffic. “We’re coming with you!”
“Deal,” Mike said.
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