CHAPTER 43
Asher Devan's eyes opened with a jolt. Blinking a few times, he searched for any pinpoint of light
… but in the metal cabinet of the morgue … there was none. He took several deep breaths,
reminding himself that he was not confined in the pit that had held him for over 150 years, but in a
temporary place that he would soon be leaving.
As soon as his joints began to loosen, he raised his arms and pushed the tiny dial illumination on
his watch. "Only another 10 minutes." He said to himself as he waited for his conspirator to
arrive and get him out of the metal tomb.
By the time the other man had arrived and began to open the cabinet door, Devan had broken out
in a cold sweat … "another thing I can hold against that damned woman" he muttered as he
stepped down from the platform, changed his clothes and followed his partner down the side hall
and out the back entrance where a dark van awaited.
"Have you heard from Mitchell?" he asked the man in the driver's seat almost before the van was
in motion. "Does he have her yet?"
The man shared a nervous look with the one who had just jumped in the back.
"What?" Devan demanded. "What?" he looked from one to the other.
"Mitchell is dead." The man in the back replied, pulling out a copy of the fax he'd received from
Mitchell's contact in Seacouver. It was a photocopy of the Seacouver Daily Herald. "Body of
Headless Corpse Found on Local Beach" it read.
"Damn." Devan threw the page back at him. "Damn"
For several minutes he said nothing, but stared at the rain hitting the windshield and the
headlights of oncoming traffic.
"Does he know who is responsible?" he said finally.
"He's not really sure … but he thinks maybe it was that Richie Ryan kid they saw with her at the
gala. Seems someone saw a redheaded guy on a motorcycle speed off with a woman who fits
her description about an hour before they found the body. But he's not sure."
Devan slammed his fists on the dash. "I want to know everything about this Richie Ryan." He
demanded.
The man nodded and pulled out his cell phone to speak with his contact.
"What time does my flight leave?" Devan asked, grumbling when he was told there was nothing
until early the next morning.
------------------
"This is just great" MacLeod complained as he hung up the phone. "That was Joe. Devan
staged his death yesterday. He'll probably be coming for her and Methos is on the other side of
the world."
"What was he thinking?" Richie asked, leaning on Mac's kitchen counter. "How could he leave
her now?"
"I have no idea … he said it was important." Mac shook his head. "It better have been … and he
better get back here like he promised before they release her tomorrow."
"Do you think he'll try to get to her in the hospital?" Richie asked.
"He won't get the chance … from now on we're doubling up." Duncan replied. "Amanda is with
her now and Joe is going over to help monitor the halls … and we will both guard her room at
night … that's when he would most likely make his move."
"I wish he would try it." Richie pounded his fist into his hand.
"I wouldn't be looking forward to meeting him Richie … remember … he's been collecting heads
for over 2,500 years." He reminded the young immortal who was too emotionally involved in all of
this to fully realize the danger.
"Who are you calling?" Richie asked as Duncan began punching numbers.
"I'm making sure our friend knows to get his butt back here. We can't keep the possibility of
Devan appearing from Beth. She needs to be prepared … in case. And like the news of Lt.
Taylor's death … she should hear it while she is where she could be taken care of in case she
takes it badly." Duncan was still upset that he had been the one to break that news to her. It
would have been easier coming from Adam. But her doctor didn't want that kind of news
delivered until she'd had another day to rest … so it had fallen on him the night before.
Richie agreed.
But MacLeod only reached the message center for Methos' cell phone.
The older immortal was deeply engrossed in his research and had to leave his phone off as he
combed the vast historical archive of the Watchers. He'd managed to talk his way past a few of
the newer researchers and was now the only one still in the building aside from a few guards.
He was technically on leave from the organization, but a call from Joe saying he was doing some
research as a favor regarding an immortal with a questionable history, had dispelled most
suspicion.
"You are going to tell me what this is all about when you get back." Joe had told him when he'd
agreed to make the call. Methos had given him a vague affirmative, but wasn't sure just what he
would share with the man when the time came. So much depended on what he would find.
It took him most of the day to locate the microfiche, and he managed to make copies without
drawing suspicion. But the last pages were not clear and he knew he needed to get into the inner
vault to see the original manuscripts to be sure he didn't miss the translation.
"I should have brought that cat burglar." He mused; thinking Amanda would truly enjoy this.
Waiting until the guards were on a sweep of the far end of the building, he pulled out a little
electronic device and attached it to the vault keypad. A moment later he was carefully closing the
door behind him … "Eat your heart out James Bond." He congratulated himself.
He combed the shelves, searching for the ancient documents …finally locating them. They were
so brittle; a few of the edges began to disintegrate when he touched them. "Careful … careful …"
he reminded himself as he turned each page, and scanned each briefly before snapping a copy
with the tiny camera he'd brought.
His search had given him more than he had expected, and he was feeling an intense feeling of
hope when he turned to the last page and his face fell. "No…" he whispered, his face showing
the despair he felt as he managed to roughly translate the last few passages.
Asher Devan's eyes opened with a jolt. Blinking a few times, he searched for any pinpoint of light
… but in the metal cabinet of the morgue … there was none. He took several deep breaths,
reminding himself that he was not confined in the pit that had held him for over 150 years, but in a
temporary place that he would soon be leaving.
As soon as his joints began to loosen, he raised his arms and pushed the tiny dial illumination on
his watch. "Only another 10 minutes." He said to himself as he waited for his conspirator to
arrive and get him out of the metal tomb.
By the time the other man had arrived and began to open the cabinet door, Devan had broken out
in a cold sweat … "another thing I can hold against that damned woman" he muttered as he
stepped down from the platform, changed his clothes and followed his partner down the side hall
and out the back entrance where a dark van awaited.
"Have you heard from Mitchell?" he asked the man in the driver's seat almost before the van was
in motion. "Does he have her yet?"
The man shared a nervous look with the one who had just jumped in the back.
"What?" Devan demanded. "What?" he looked from one to the other.
"Mitchell is dead." The man in the back replied, pulling out a copy of the fax he'd received from
Mitchell's contact in Seacouver. It was a photocopy of the Seacouver Daily Herald. "Body of
Headless Corpse Found on Local Beach" it read.
"Damn." Devan threw the page back at him. "Damn"
For several minutes he said nothing, but stared at the rain hitting the windshield and the
headlights of oncoming traffic.
"Does he know who is responsible?" he said finally.
"He's not really sure … but he thinks maybe it was that Richie Ryan kid they saw with her at the
gala. Seems someone saw a redheaded guy on a motorcycle speed off with a woman who fits
her description about an hour before they found the body. But he's not sure."
Devan slammed his fists on the dash. "I want to know everything about this Richie Ryan." He
demanded.
The man nodded and pulled out his cell phone to speak with his contact.
"What time does my flight leave?" Devan asked, grumbling when he was told there was nothing
until early the next morning.
------------------
"This is just great" MacLeod complained as he hung up the phone. "That was Joe. Devan
staged his death yesterday. He'll probably be coming for her and Methos is on the other side of
the world."
"What was he thinking?" Richie asked, leaning on Mac's kitchen counter. "How could he leave
her now?"
"I have no idea … he said it was important." Mac shook his head. "It better have been … and he
better get back here like he promised before they release her tomorrow."
"Do you think he'll try to get to her in the hospital?" Richie asked.
"He won't get the chance … from now on we're doubling up." Duncan replied. "Amanda is with
her now and Joe is going over to help monitor the halls … and we will both guard her room at
night … that's when he would most likely make his move."
"I wish he would try it." Richie pounded his fist into his hand.
"I wouldn't be looking forward to meeting him Richie … remember … he's been collecting heads
for over 2,500 years." He reminded the young immortal who was too emotionally involved in all of
this to fully realize the danger.
"Who are you calling?" Richie asked as Duncan began punching numbers.
"I'm making sure our friend knows to get his butt back here. We can't keep the possibility of
Devan appearing from Beth. She needs to be prepared … in case. And like the news of Lt.
Taylor's death … she should hear it while she is where she could be taken care of in case she
takes it badly." Duncan was still upset that he had been the one to break that news to her. It
would have been easier coming from Adam. But her doctor didn't want that kind of news
delivered until she'd had another day to rest … so it had fallen on him the night before.
Richie agreed.
But MacLeod only reached the message center for Methos' cell phone.
The older immortal was deeply engrossed in his research and had to leave his phone off as he
combed the vast historical archive of the Watchers. He'd managed to talk his way past a few of
the newer researchers and was now the only one still in the building aside from a few guards.
He was technically on leave from the organization, but a call from Joe saying he was doing some
research as a favor regarding an immortal with a questionable history, had dispelled most
suspicion.
"You are going to tell me what this is all about when you get back." Joe had told him when he'd
agreed to make the call. Methos had given him a vague affirmative, but wasn't sure just what he
would share with the man when the time came. So much depended on what he would find.
It took him most of the day to locate the microfiche, and he managed to make copies without
drawing suspicion. But the last pages were not clear and he knew he needed to get into the inner
vault to see the original manuscripts to be sure he didn't miss the translation.
"I should have brought that cat burglar." He mused; thinking Amanda would truly enjoy this.
Waiting until the guards were on a sweep of the far end of the building, he pulled out a little
electronic device and attached it to the vault keypad. A moment later he was carefully closing the
door behind him … "Eat your heart out James Bond." He congratulated himself.
He combed the shelves, searching for the ancient documents …finally locating them. They were
so brittle; a few of the edges began to disintegrate when he touched them. "Careful … careful …"
he reminded himself as he turned each page, and scanned each briefly before snapping a copy
with the tiny camera he'd brought.
His search had given him more than he had expected, and he was feeling an intense feeling of
hope when he turned to the last page and his face fell. "No…" he whispered, his face showing
the despair he felt as he managed to roughly translate the last few passages.