O ~ O ~ The news ~ O ~ O
"You're telling me that Adam Pierson is Methos?" I ask Duncan.
Adam, that'll cringe and melt trough the floor if anyone as much as looks at him disproving? A 5000 year old Immortal? Can little, bright but naïve, Adam be Methos? Or an Immortal at all?
"I think it was his little joke on you. Adam, the first man." Duncan says.
"What better way to steer clear of other Immortals. He's been right there all along. I can't believe I missed it." ^Little^ joke, huh? The guts to stick around when they, "we", killed Darius! Staying in Paris, just ducking and keeping his head down, cold and gutsy. That's one hell of an act damn it!
"There's no way you could have known." Duncan tries to comfort me.
"You hang tight, MacLeod. I'm going to be on the next plane." I need to fix this!
I was the one to send Duncan, destroying his cover. I have to make sure no one within the organization Watcher politics is right now that would start a Hunt. One that would quickly escalate to a war of Biblical proportions, if Duncan finds out. He never did question why I sent him.
I'm sorry Adam, I just wanted to protect you...
"Joe. Don't bother. He's gone, and all your Chronicles went with him. He's going to be hard to find." Duncan says.
Thank God! Of course he would disappear! This is Adam, after all. He might've faked his shyness but not his intelligence.
I change the subject. "What about Kalas?"
"Out of reach. He's in jail, at least for now. But I can wait." Duncan answers.
After a couple more platitudes, that I'm really not paying any attention to, we hang up.
My mind is spinning with memories of 'Adam', Methos?
Brilliant, not just in linguistics but any type or research really. Shy, with a deeply hidden sense of humour, that only surfaces in company he trusts.
It took years before I got him to trust me like that, and more years for me and Don to make him secure enough to even argue his position! And God, were we sorry, and proud, every time we succeeded and he shredded our arguments into pieces, I remember with a chuckle.
Adam is Methos? 5000 years old? It's hard to believe it...
Adam an Immortal that managed to fool Duncan? Maybe, but just as hard to believe.
O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O
"Monsieur, my apologies for disturbing." A unfamiliar male voice with a clear French accent interrupts my thoughts.
I've a sudden feeling of doom as I turn, inside my bar-counter a unknown man is standing. The first thing I notice is the competent way he holds the gun at me, steady and well out of reach. The second thing are his eyes. They are also competent, calm and hard, a man on a job. He has generously with grey in originally dark hair, I guess about my age, in good shape, a professional. But a professional what?
I glance around at my staff packing up for the night. Two younger men standing in the shadows also with drawn weapons, but discreetly hidden from the staff.
"What can I do for you?" Hopefully the staff won't be hurt at least, it doesn't appear as if they want to involve them.
"I have been asked to deliver you to Monsieur Pierson before you have opportunity to communicate with others. Preferably as a guest." The man explains his presence with polite firmness, the eyes communicating his orders to deliver me regardless of my opinion.
"I have to say something to the staff." I hope his orders are not to kill them if I do, this man will if they are.
A Guest. I've a slight hope now, most older Immortals takes their responsibilities towards Guests seriously. I might get to meet Methos! Possibly even get away from it with my life.
He puts away the gun and holds up a tape recorder, pressing play.
I say good night to my people and leave will the men. I don't give any code words to Elisa, the Watcher on staff present, Adam knows me to well for me to take that risk. These people will do as they get paid to.
The older man and I get the backseat of the large SUV. There's a raised privacy window to the front where the two younger men, in their 30s, got in.
"Thank you for not making a scene Monsieur Dawson. We will go to your home, I will escort you inside and pick up some things from your safe, then you pack for a couple of days and we leave." He explains calmly.
Oh God.. the safe? How does he know about that? I never told the Watchers about it. Am I expected to give the code to this man?
What do I have there? My private Diaries mostly. Oh...
I nod that I understand.
If Adam, maybe Methos, had used the Watchers to Headhunt there would've been an increase the last decade, not the slow but steady decrease of Challenges that has actually occurred. Despite my personal experience with Duncan.
Still I'm sure he keeps track of the Top Players, I doubt he has stayed alive by Challenging people recklessly, whether he's Methos or someone else.
O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O
Only the older man follows me inside, I open the safe for him without saying anything more.
"Merci, Monsieur Dawson. This will save much time." He says putting away some device, continuing. "I am afraid I will need you to sit there while I pack it, Monsieur. I am not to take chances." Pointing at the sofa, within sight of him.
I take a chair instead, easier to get out of. He makes no comment even if he frowns a little and never let me out of his sight entirely.
I'm a bit surprised, usually people tend to dismiss me as 'a cripple', not a threat. But it sounds as if he actually has orders to be careful. Oh, so I can't leave a message. No, the intelligence was certainly not faked, if anything underplayed, and Adam is one of the smartest people I've ever met.
All of this is pretty impressive and carefully planed, but why? With access to my diaries it's not just about knowing as much as possible about Duncan, it has to be something more. Unless the guy kills me now, lying to get my cooperation, not that it matters at this point.
When he has emptied the safe into a portfolio, we go to pack my bag. He carries both outside, stowing them in the trunk.
O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O
Back in the car he holds out a blindfold. "Monsieur, my name is Toll. I apologize, but it is for the best if you se no other faces. Will you please accept this?"
"I'm all for anything increasing my chances to get out of this alive." My mouth says before I manage to catch it.
I reach for the blindfold without further comments.
"My orders are to bring you in as good shape as possible, there is a meal waiting for us on the plane. Once we are in the air you may remove the blindfold, Monsieur Dawson."
I put it on with a "Thank you Toll."
Plane! I'm going to Europe, most likely. This isn't cheap, the level of professionalism and an chartered plane, unless he owns it, still not cheap. My hope rises, a little. I doubt he'd go trough this just to kill me in person. Of course it depends on what he'll ask of me...
Damn it, I like... liked? Adam!
O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O
I'm quietly counting as we leave city traffic and increase the speed. Not Canada I decide when Toll politely and carefully helps me out of the car.
Someone else empties the trunk. The sounds of airplanes, a fair sized airfield but not a commercial since no one has stopped us at any gate I analyse as I stand on some type of elevator going up.
The plane is big enough to have an aisle and is sectioned. We walk past, at least two 'doorways' before I'm helped into a comfortable seat. I've a vague feeling we didn't walk down the centre of the plane but rather to one side.
"You can put on your belt for yourself, yes, Monsieur Dawson?" Toll asks.
"Yes." I agree. Actually preferring to do it myself rather than being groped by an unknown man, no matter how polite.
I listen to the distant sounds of several more people getting on the plane. At least two more people, except those in cockpit staying up front.
A door is closed to the front of the plane confirming the suspicion of doorways. Very good sound proofing, a luxurious private jet of some kind then.
I know the Watchers have two smaller for emergency transports, and moving artefacts we can't explain how we've gotten, but I think this is bigger than those, unless I'm at the back wall.
O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O
Suddenly from the speaker, in French. "Ladies and Gentlemen we have fifteen minutes before take-off, please make sure that any lose items are removed when we start taxing."
"Monsieur, did you want something to drink before take-off." Toll asks, assuming that I understood that.
"Will it be long?" I ask, not willing to give away a possible advantage without reason.
Toll huffs a little. "I'm sorry Monsieur Dawson. I was informed that your French has a terrible accent but is otherwise fluent. I was also warned that you can likely communicate somewhat in German as well as understand both Spanish and Italian."
Fuck. Well I shouldn't be surprised he's been thorough so far. "Some water then, thank you. And please call me Joe." I give in with a sigh.
There were several German speaking in my group at the Watcher Academy, so I suppose I could communicate in that. I speak enough of the American Hispanic mix to probably be able to understand Spanish, maybe even talk some. But I've absolutely no relation to Italian whatsoever... except, how close is Latin to modern Italian? I'm pretty fluent in Latin after twenty years of Research in the language.
Toll returns from his trip forward in the plane, stopping next to me. "To your left, Monsieur, you will find a table."
I feel there and fold it down, sturdier than those things you usually find on airplanes.
I hear a real glass being set down on it, a rubber surface, and Toll taking the seat across the aisle.
O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O
I'm trying to not think about things but it's not working very well.
I assume a professional, like Toll obviously is, won't be answering any questions. Likely he doesn't have most the answers I want anyway.
Adam an Immortal... Don would've had a heart attack if he knew! A pang of grief, that I push back, later there will be time for that. Or not.
Duncan seemed so sure that he ^is^ Methos. That's an old question among the Watchers, how much information they get when 'feeling' another Immortal.
It seems to be different from person to person. Some Immortals appear to know who they are looking for, others to be completely dumbfounded.
Just as range seems to be completely random in most cases. Within mutual eyesight, no matter the distance, is pretty much confirmed. But otherwise it seems to be incredibly random.
The one thing we have fairly decent research on is that they will feel each other at the same time, not one first and the other later, when their Quickenings meet both will feel it. Another thing is the maximum range seems to increase with age and/or heads taken, but still be unpredictable. At least from our point of view.
Head-hunters generally have a greater range, one theory on that is that they are actively looking for other Immortals.
I wish I could ask Duncan about it. But I don't think he will take to those types of questions in a good way.
O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O
The plane jerks a little and then starts rolling.
"Can I take your glass, Monsieur?" Toll asks from across the isle.
I nod holding it in his general direction and put back the table where I found it.
He's back in his seat before the Captain asks everyone to be seated and belted for take-off.
After a while the captain announces that we may move about, but that he recommends that we stay seated for another ten minutes until we have reached march altitude.
"You can remove the blindfold now if you wish. I would prefer if you stay seated until the Captain gives an all clear, Monsieur." Toll obviously has no problems sliding between the roles of jailor, bodyguard and butler, I wonder where Adam found him?
I remove the blindfold and stay seated as he asked, no reason to agitate him unnecessary.
"Joe, please." I try to convince him instead as I'm studying my guard further.
Average looking square face fitting with the compact body. No fat, actually he would probably be really large if he had the larger muscles you get from weight lifting rather than the wiry muscles you get from a hard life. He's 5"9, with a tan that tells of much time spent outdoors, yet appears relaxed and comfortable in the tailored, but not extremely expensive, suit he wears. The blue-grey eyes friendly and ruthless at the same time, the clichéd friendly mobster hitman...
"Joe." He accepts with a slight nod and smile.
"There is a bathroom if you wish to freshen up before meeting Monsieur Pierson tomorrow, we only have enough water for a short shower unfortunately. I will show you that and the bedroom when we get the clear.
The dinner will be steak with Caesar salad and warm bread, I hope it is satisfactory. How do you prefer you meat?"
"Medium rare please. Are you a chef then?" I smile back a little.
I've never been in a private jet before, perhaps I should upgrade my transatlantic travel in the future I reflect as I look around. Comfort, convenience and a down to earth elegance, a masculine feel to the interior. Nothing flashy or frilly but everything you could wish for in a 10-12 hour flight, obviously including a bathroom and bedroom.
"No, not a chef." Toll chuckles. "But I know how to grill a piece of meat, the rest is ready-made.
There is also some desert and cheese with crackers if you want later. A bottle of wine in the cooler for the dinner, I was told it would be to your liking."
Adam prefers his beer and wouldn't know wine from vinegar. Actually has compared them, with the comment that vinegar at least is good in a salad, unlike vine that is never good for anything but getting a headache. Very quietly so only I could hear it, since it was Christine serving it and Adam would never have said anything negative about her so Don could hear.
But this isn't Adam, whoever he is.
"That sounds interesting." I tell him honestly. "You fly this way often?" I ask turning in my seat to see more of the interior, no reason to hide my curiosity now.
I actually sit by the window, opposite of me another chair and across the aisle Toll sits in a equal arrangement. Toll has my cane next to him I'm grateful to see.
Towards the front of the plane a wall with a large TV screen and a door on the right side. The one I came trough, always nice to get your feelings confirmed.
"Unfortunately no. The luxury of a proper, comfortable, bed and a toilet with enough space to get trough the door is something I could get used to. The flight to America was far less comfortable." Toll grins.
I smile in agreement. "How long have you been watching me?" I try for some information.
The grin turns to a wry smile, but he answers. "I took over two days ago, the phones were already tapped when I did."
I was watched almost from the moment Adam knew I sent Duncan.
O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O
He will want to know why I sent Duncan. Meaning I'll have to explain that the Watchers were about to sacrifice him, Adam will be...
He isn't Adam! And I've no idea how he will react. ^Adam^ would've been distraught and disbelieving, completely destroyed at the thought of such danger. Even if he probably could see the logic behind such a decision once he calms down, he's a good strategic and far above average chess player, not to good at quick decisions however.
How the Immortal that told Duncan he's Methos will react I have absolutely no idea about.
Duncan seems to be able to tell if Immortals are older or younger than him, so I'll be assuming he's at least older than Duncan. That makes it unlikely he'll be as surprised as 'Adam' would've been. You don't get trough centuries ^that^ naïve.
O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O
"Are you getting a bonus for delivering me happy?" I ask my host.
Toll measures me with sharp eyes, smile gone now, but again he choses to reply. "My bonus is not dependent on your behaviour, it is based on how well I follow my orders. The orders are however to treat you as a VIP Guest as long as you behave."
I nod my understanding that the royal treatment will end if I try something. "I better enjoy it then, never had the opportunity to be a VIP on a private jet before!" I grin at him, not pushing my luck or his willingness to answer further.
Just then the Captain says that we are at marsh altitude and that the weather forecast promises a clam flight the first part at least.
O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O
Toll smiles a little at me. "I will go and make our dinner.
Behind that door" Toll points to the forward one. "is the pantry a toilet and my bedroom and then a second seating area, the men there has orders to take you down if you go there.
To the back you will find your bedroom and the bathroom." He's risen and is handing me the cane.
I'm really hungry now, Adam knows I usually eat when I get home. I get up and have a look at 'my room', while I wait for the food.
Luxurious elegant yet still no frills, probably ridiculously expensive, nothing saved on comfort and nothing spent on unnecessary extras without purpose. Effective. I wonder if this is rented or owned by Adam, how much it reflects his personality?
The bathroom is the same as the rest, effective and not flashy. A shower where you can sit, I will actually be able to get cleaned up there on my own, every detail thought of.
O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O
The meal is really good, I tend to eat far to much of the bar food so something different is welcome, the wine is both very good and perfect with it.
Toll turns out to be four years younger than me, starting out in a street gang and is still an active mercenary. He's pleasant company and not adverse to trading old war stories, any probes on teenage or recent years is evaded. I don't try very hard.
We finish the wine with the cheese and crackers, then Toll promises to wake me with plenty of time to get cleaned up and eat breakfast before landing. He asks if I want sleeping pills.
I refuse, one good thing about Nam in that I learned to sleep when I can.
Toll smirks. "Not everyone retain this ability when they go civilian, but you did not quite did you." He says, not expecting me to answer.
The bed is sinfully comfortable and the Captain has predicted a calm flight. I resolutely put out the light and fall asleep.