CHAPTER 57
After the plane landed at the airport in Munich, Methos' usefullness for the men on the plane was at it's end.
"Here is your pay." The man who was obviously in charge said as Methos assisted the pilot with the post flight shut down. "You never saw anything or anyone . right?"
"Saw who?" Methos raised an eyebrow as he took the envelope the man passed to him, leafed quickly through the impressive stash of bills and stood to get his jacket and cap from the overhead bin. His things were stored in the duffel he'd taken from the real co-pilot, and that was stored out in the main part of the cabin. Retrieving it was his last opportunity to make contact with Joe or Claudia.
"Are we going to have to restrain you again Mr. Dawson?" one of the guards asked Joe. Claudia had already been taken down the ramp and Methos could see her head being shoved into a car from one of the windows in the plane.
"I'll go quietly." Joe barked back, "But I don't need no chair." He scoffed as he looked at the wheelchair they had rolled up the aisle. "Just give me my crutches."
"I'm afraid we'll be needing those." The man who had paid Methos said, passing the crutches and then Joe's coat and scarf to one of the guards. Methos was only able to make brief eye contact with Joe before the same guard with the crutches shoved him toward the door and the two of them walked down the ramp.
"What are you looking at?" the man said.
"Me? Nothing ." Methos replied as he walked toward the pilot's entrance to the terminal. He had to hurry.
He'd managed to make a mental note of the license tags on the car that would be taking Claudia and Joe away, and if he was really lucky, he could procure a vehicle and find a way to follow them.
Back on the plane, Joe had no choice but to let them put him in the chair. They tucked a blanket around his shoulders, which only made him look more helpless. Inside he was steaming. Outside, Joe remained gruff but calm. He knew Methos wouldn't let them down. The old man would find a way.
Methos did indeed make it through the terminal quickly because of his uniform and credentials. However getting a car was tougher than he thought. It had taken a few minutes to find a car he could get into, and by the time he'd wired the engine the van was gone.
"Damn" Methos hit his hands against the steering wheel as he watched helplessly from behind a line of merging vehicles as the car drove away. There was no way he could catch up to them.
"Guess it's Plan B." he said to himself as he pulled to the curb beside a phone booth and looked for the nearest internet café.
For the next three hours, Methos hacked from one system to another until he finally breached the security of the department of motor vehicles. The car was registered in the name of one Frans Heiden. He scribbled down the address, paid his tab at the café counter and tried to reach MacLeod by phone. The line was unavailable.
He hoped MacLeod had received his first message and wouldn't be far behind.
It took him forty five minutes to get to the address on the outskirts of Munich.
Methos didn't see the car anywhere, but when he pulled up to the curb of the fairly old tenement he double checked the numbers on the building. "This is the place."
He slumped down in the seat and waited until well after dark, but still no car.
Finally when he could wait no longer, Methos went up to the main door and scanned the names on the boxes. No Heiden.
An older woman stepped out of the first downstairs apartment. "May I help you?"
"Yes, I was looking for a friend of mine. I could swear this is the address he gave me, but his name does not appear on any of the boxes." Methos asked in a perfect German accent, flashing a charming but helpless smile. "His name is Heiden, Frans Heiden."
"How long has it been since you heard from him?" the woman asked.
"It's been awhile. I've been . abroad."
"He moved away over a year ago." The woman replied.
Methos face fell. "Oh dear. I'd so hoped to reconnect with him."
"Let me see if he left a forwarding address." The woman went back into her apartment and rifled through a book. "He had his mail forwarded to this P.O. box." She wrote down the information and handed the paper to Methos.
"Thank you dear lady." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles gallantly.
"It was my pleasure." The woman blushed as Methos gave her a little wink and then turned to go back to the car.
For the next two days Methos followed one forwarded address after another, breaking into more than one P.O. box to retrieve information as he went along.
And all the while he couldn't reach MacLeod on his phone. "You pick now to change numbers?" he said to the receiver when he reached a recording that said the number was no longer available.
What neither he nor Duncan knew was that Rick Shafer had somehow managed to have MacLeod's phone line tampered with. He would only be receiving the calls Shafer intended.
*NOTE: If you are reading this story and enjoying it, would you please take a moment to post a review. Even a short comment would be much appreciated and motivational. THANKS (
After the plane landed at the airport in Munich, Methos' usefullness for the men on the plane was at it's end.
"Here is your pay." The man who was obviously in charge said as Methos assisted the pilot with the post flight shut down. "You never saw anything or anyone . right?"
"Saw who?" Methos raised an eyebrow as he took the envelope the man passed to him, leafed quickly through the impressive stash of bills and stood to get his jacket and cap from the overhead bin. His things were stored in the duffel he'd taken from the real co-pilot, and that was stored out in the main part of the cabin. Retrieving it was his last opportunity to make contact with Joe or Claudia.
"Are we going to have to restrain you again Mr. Dawson?" one of the guards asked Joe. Claudia had already been taken down the ramp and Methos could see her head being shoved into a car from one of the windows in the plane.
"I'll go quietly." Joe barked back, "But I don't need no chair." He scoffed as he looked at the wheelchair they had rolled up the aisle. "Just give me my crutches."
"I'm afraid we'll be needing those." The man who had paid Methos said, passing the crutches and then Joe's coat and scarf to one of the guards. Methos was only able to make brief eye contact with Joe before the same guard with the crutches shoved him toward the door and the two of them walked down the ramp.
"What are you looking at?" the man said.
"Me? Nothing ." Methos replied as he walked toward the pilot's entrance to the terminal. He had to hurry.
He'd managed to make a mental note of the license tags on the car that would be taking Claudia and Joe away, and if he was really lucky, he could procure a vehicle and find a way to follow them.
Back on the plane, Joe had no choice but to let them put him in the chair. They tucked a blanket around his shoulders, which only made him look more helpless. Inside he was steaming. Outside, Joe remained gruff but calm. He knew Methos wouldn't let them down. The old man would find a way.
Methos did indeed make it through the terminal quickly because of his uniform and credentials. However getting a car was tougher than he thought. It had taken a few minutes to find a car he could get into, and by the time he'd wired the engine the van was gone.
"Damn" Methos hit his hands against the steering wheel as he watched helplessly from behind a line of merging vehicles as the car drove away. There was no way he could catch up to them.
"Guess it's Plan B." he said to himself as he pulled to the curb beside a phone booth and looked for the nearest internet café.
For the next three hours, Methos hacked from one system to another until he finally breached the security of the department of motor vehicles. The car was registered in the name of one Frans Heiden. He scribbled down the address, paid his tab at the café counter and tried to reach MacLeod by phone. The line was unavailable.
He hoped MacLeod had received his first message and wouldn't be far behind.
It took him forty five minutes to get to the address on the outskirts of Munich.
Methos didn't see the car anywhere, but when he pulled up to the curb of the fairly old tenement he double checked the numbers on the building. "This is the place."
He slumped down in the seat and waited until well after dark, but still no car.
Finally when he could wait no longer, Methos went up to the main door and scanned the names on the boxes. No Heiden.
An older woman stepped out of the first downstairs apartment. "May I help you?"
"Yes, I was looking for a friend of mine. I could swear this is the address he gave me, but his name does not appear on any of the boxes." Methos asked in a perfect German accent, flashing a charming but helpless smile. "His name is Heiden, Frans Heiden."
"How long has it been since you heard from him?" the woman asked.
"It's been awhile. I've been . abroad."
"He moved away over a year ago." The woman replied.
Methos face fell. "Oh dear. I'd so hoped to reconnect with him."
"Let me see if he left a forwarding address." The woman went back into her apartment and rifled through a book. "He had his mail forwarded to this P.O. box." She wrote down the information and handed the paper to Methos.
"Thank you dear lady." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles gallantly.
"It was my pleasure." The woman blushed as Methos gave her a little wink and then turned to go back to the car.
For the next two days Methos followed one forwarded address after another, breaking into more than one P.O. box to retrieve information as he went along.
And all the while he couldn't reach MacLeod on his phone. "You pick now to change numbers?" he said to the receiver when he reached a recording that said the number was no longer available.
What neither he nor Duncan knew was that Rick Shafer had somehow managed to have MacLeod's phone line tampered with. He would only be receiving the calls Shafer intended.
*NOTE: If you are reading this story and enjoying it, would you please take a moment to post a review. Even a short comment would be much appreciated and motivational. THANKS (