Chapter Two
Vancouver
Chloe Young's flight landed at the airport shortly before noon. From there it was to the baggage claim carousel, where she collected the luggage that had all but become her permanent traveling wardrobe, then to the Northwest Car Rental office located inside the airport. Yes, they had a car reserved in her name. No, she didn't need to worry about putting it on her credit card. The rental expense - like the cost of the flight, Chloe noted - would be taken care of by the organization. She accepted the key from the efficient, if overeager, college-age kid behind the desk, and hauled her baggage outside, where a dark green Ford was waiting. Over the past two and a half years, Chloe had become an expert when it came to last-minute, job-related travel, and the way the details of this trip were handled pleased her.
She drove directly to the Watcher research center. She would check into her hotel and crash later, she told herself. Judging by the way the local Head of Research sounded, the situation was urgent. When she arrived at the center, sometime after one in the afternoon, she was immediately shown to the man's office. She barely had time to set her small tan purse on the desk before he appeared. She took in his frazzled, graying appearance, and was met with an equally assessing stare.
"I'd heard that you look a little young," he remarked, somewhat apologetically. "I'm Clayton Ross. We spoke late last night."
Chloe shook his offered hand. She wasn't surprised by his reaction to her looks. She never grew beyond the four foot, eleven inches she reached in her teens, and she rarely if ever wore makeup, a fact which made her appear years younger than she actually was. And her chest - well, that was as flat as the clichéd pancake, one of her less-than-tactful male colleagues once commented when he thought she was out of earshot. She tucked a stray strand of mousy brown hair into the bun she always wore at the nape of her neck. "I'm glad I can be of service," she said. "What can you tell me about this case you found?"
Ross sat down in the rolling chair behind his desk, while Chloe seated herself across from him. He reached for a local newspaper sitting on top of a stack of file folders on the desk. "This is the morning edition," he said as he handed the paper to her.
Chloe adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses and scanned the headline on the front page: "Two die as car overturns: crash leaves two miraculous survivors."
Ross went on, not even pausing to notice Chloe's reaction to the photograph below the headline. It was a family grouping, a man and woman in their mid to late forties standing in the background, and a girl in her early twenties cradling a baby boy in her lap in the foreground. "The five o'clock news yesterday didn't give much information about the survivors," he said. "The newspaper doesn't say a whole lot, either."
Chloe let herself stare at the photo. "I'm sure you have people here who can work on this," she commented, a puzzled expression on her youthful features. "Why call me in?"
Ross folded his hands across the desk. "I've been told that you have a knack for finding lost Immortals. Something about this strikes me as familiar, but I can't place my finger on it. Must be the way the girl's holding the baby. Makes me think about my daughter and grandson."
A small smile crept across Chloe's lips. "Perhaps."
"Anyway, neither I nor anyone else here has the time to give this the single-minded attention it deserves."
She set the article back on the desk. "Is there anything else I need to know?" she queried.
"There is one thing," he replied, "but I don't know how much it'll help you."
"What is it?"
"The man who was killed is rumored to have been a Watcher. He may have been assigned to something top secret, so if you need extra clearance to get into the classified files, let me know."
They both stood up, and Chloe reached for her purse. Shaking Ross's hand a second time, she told him, "Thanks, but that isn't necessary. My boss back east took care of that already."
She wasn't about to tell Ross, but Chloe felt the same sense of vague recognition that he did, and it had nothing to do with the blonde. It bothered her, that she couldn't place the older woman in the photograph, but she'd bet money that she knew her from somewhere.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seacouver
Duncan took his eyes off the road for a second, just long enough to glance at the pair seated next to him. The motion of the car sent Jonathan into a light doze as his sister cradled him, in the carrier, on her lap. Laura herself sat ramrod straight, her eyes riveted to road in front of them. Duncan wondered what was on her mind, then recalled the story about her parents. He imagined she was thinking of their brutal deaths. Perhaps I can get her to talk about the way she died, he said to himself.
"Tell me about yourself." When did you first become Immortal? Was it before or after your mother and father were killed? Do you understand what happened to you and your brother?
"Not much to tell," she said, glancing at him briefly. "Dad married Mom when I was five years old, and he adopted Jonathan and me. After that, we lived in place after place, usually sticking around a few months before moving on."
"Oh."
"I don't know what made Jonathan the way he is," Laura continued, answering part of Duncan's last unspoken question. "Mom always said it was an accident," she looked down at Jonathan, "but what kind of accident could do this to him? I asked her once, but she just got real sad and real quiet, so I never brought up the subject again."
Duncan got a similar impression when he saw the shadow come into Laura's eyes. They spent the rest of the drive in uneasy silence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As he drove south, David Burke let his mind drift back to that night. The rage over Melissa's betrayal threatened to overwhelm him. How dare she? She knew how important it was for him to get back to a normal life after 'Nam. Why did she want to foist those brats off on him as if they were his own flesh and blood?
He didn't discount Vandenberg's role in destroying his life, either. Even so, part of him wanted to feel grateful to his teacher for telling him the truth about their kind's inability to produce offspring. That would've saved him a lot of grief later on, he supposed, should he want to exercise his normal male desires on someone other than his wife. No, no bastards could be laid at his doorstep. The bitch tried it anyway, though.
Burke laughed mirthlessly. He'd been tailing Melissa and her brats ever since that night, coming just within reach of them time and time again before she and her brats would escape yet again. Now that she and her fake husband were dead, the brats would have no place left to hide. Finally, he would have the justice that was denied him all these years.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Laura had only two pieces of luggage, but it appeared to Duncan that she must have crammed every item of clothing she and Jonathan owned into them. The duffel bag, the smaller of the two, nearly pulled Duncan's arm out of its socket when he picked it up. He didn't want to think about the weight of the huge upright suitcase which Laura insisted on handling, in addition to her brother, his carrier, and the diaper bag. At least the suitcase had wheels on it, Duncan mused. How did she manage all this baggage on her own?
A few people were milling about the hotel lobby when Duncan and Laura stepped off the elevator, baggage and Jonathan in tow. Duncan was curious to know if any of them were Watchers, for surely an Immortal like Jonathan commanded a lot of attention, especially with an Immortal sister acting as his guardian.
"Mac," Laura inquired, "why are you helping us?"
Pushing all speculation about the Watchers aside, he turned to her and answered, "Because you asked."
"I asked Joe, not you."
"I volunteered, then." Duncan gave her a cocky half-smile.
"Is it a habit of yours," she quipped, "playing the knight in shining armor?"
"Sometimes."
Jonathan started crying, then. "Oh, honey, what's the matter?" Laura cooed, tilting her head down to look at her brother.
"Maybe he needs to be changed," suggested Duncan.
"I don't think so . . ." Laura's voice trailed off eerily, and Duncan opened his mouth to ask why, but the sensation hit him at once. Another Immortal, and chances were that it wasn't a friend. Duncan looked left, right, then his eyes fell on the hotel's revolving front door, where a man wearing a dingy looking, beige-colored overcoat and carrying a large black rucksack entered the lobby. Duncan took in the man's close-cropped, dark blond hair and narrow-set eyes. His mind made an instant connection between the stranger and the Kesslers.
"Mac?"
Once again, Laura's voice interrupted Duncan's concentration, but this time, it sounded oddly weak. "What is it?" he asked, his stare still fixed on the new arrival.
"All of a sudden, my head's spinning like a top."
One look at Laura told Duncan she was in obvious pain. She had let go of the suitcase - though she still held onto Jonathan's carrier - and her free hand was at her temple. Feeling a sudden stab of concern, he told her, "Don't worry. You'll get used to it."
Laura slowly lowered her hand - a signal that whatever pain she felt had passed - and a bewildered frown creased her brow. "Get used to what?" she asked.
Duncan mentally cursed himself. This was neither the time nor the place to have that talk with her. "Never mind. Let's go."
"I need to check out first," Laura said, reaching into her jeans pocket and pulling out her room key.
"Let me take care of that," Duncan offered, taking the key out of her hand before she had a chance to refuse. He walked up to the registration desk, intending to cut off any contact the stranger might want to have with the Kesslers before it began.
The other Immortal was already signing the hotel register by the time Duncan reached the desk. Duncan handed the young receptionist Laura's room key, and she called up Laura's bill on the hotel computer. The second the receptionist turned away from them, Duncan addressed the man. "The name's Duncan MacLeod," he told him. "In town long?"
The greeting wasn't meant to be a casual one. Without even looking up, however, the stranger coolly responded, "Just passing through, friend."
Duncan didn't buy that lie for a second. He handed the receptionist his credit card, and she swiped it through the card reader and printed up a receipt. With the receptionist's attention once again diverted, Duncan leaned forward and whispered in an ominous tone, "If you want them, you'll have to go through me."
The man caught Duncan's thinly veiled threat, for he quickly gave Laura and Jonathan the once-over. Laura, her gaze on her brother, seemed unaware of what was transpiring at the registration desk. "Them?" the stranger scoffed. "Not even worth the effort."
"I hope so."
Burke watched as MacLeod rejoined his companions and ushered them out the revolving door. How nice it was that the brats found a protector! And one who was oh-so-willing to offer up his name. As soon as he could, Burke would look up the man's address and seek him out. Not to take his head - at least, not yet - but wherever this Duncan MacLeod was, he was sure to keep the brats near him.
Vancouver
Chloe Young's flight landed at the airport shortly before noon. From there it was to the baggage claim carousel, where she collected the luggage that had all but become her permanent traveling wardrobe, then to the Northwest Car Rental office located inside the airport. Yes, they had a car reserved in her name. No, she didn't need to worry about putting it on her credit card. The rental expense - like the cost of the flight, Chloe noted - would be taken care of by the organization. She accepted the key from the efficient, if overeager, college-age kid behind the desk, and hauled her baggage outside, where a dark green Ford was waiting. Over the past two and a half years, Chloe had become an expert when it came to last-minute, job-related travel, and the way the details of this trip were handled pleased her.
She drove directly to the Watcher research center. She would check into her hotel and crash later, she told herself. Judging by the way the local Head of Research sounded, the situation was urgent. When she arrived at the center, sometime after one in the afternoon, she was immediately shown to the man's office. She barely had time to set her small tan purse on the desk before he appeared. She took in his frazzled, graying appearance, and was met with an equally assessing stare.
"I'd heard that you look a little young," he remarked, somewhat apologetically. "I'm Clayton Ross. We spoke late last night."
Chloe shook his offered hand. She wasn't surprised by his reaction to her looks. She never grew beyond the four foot, eleven inches she reached in her teens, and she rarely if ever wore makeup, a fact which made her appear years younger than she actually was. And her chest - well, that was as flat as the clichéd pancake, one of her less-than-tactful male colleagues once commented when he thought she was out of earshot. She tucked a stray strand of mousy brown hair into the bun she always wore at the nape of her neck. "I'm glad I can be of service," she said. "What can you tell me about this case you found?"
Ross sat down in the rolling chair behind his desk, while Chloe seated herself across from him. He reached for a local newspaper sitting on top of a stack of file folders on the desk. "This is the morning edition," he said as he handed the paper to her.
Chloe adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses and scanned the headline on the front page: "Two die as car overturns: crash leaves two miraculous survivors."
Ross went on, not even pausing to notice Chloe's reaction to the photograph below the headline. It was a family grouping, a man and woman in their mid to late forties standing in the background, and a girl in her early twenties cradling a baby boy in her lap in the foreground. "The five o'clock news yesterday didn't give much information about the survivors," he said. "The newspaper doesn't say a whole lot, either."
Chloe let herself stare at the photo. "I'm sure you have people here who can work on this," she commented, a puzzled expression on her youthful features. "Why call me in?"
Ross folded his hands across the desk. "I've been told that you have a knack for finding lost Immortals. Something about this strikes me as familiar, but I can't place my finger on it. Must be the way the girl's holding the baby. Makes me think about my daughter and grandson."
A small smile crept across Chloe's lips. "Perhaps."
"Anyway, neither I nor anyone else here has the time to give this the single-minded attention it deserves."
She set the article back on the desk. "Is there anything else I need to know?" she queried.
"There is one thing," he replied, "but I don't know how much it'll help you."
"What is it?"
"The man who was killed is rumored to have been a Watcher. He may have been assigned to something top secret, so if you need extra clearance to get into the classified files, let me know."
They both stood up, and Chloe reached for her purse. Shaking Ross's hand a second time, she told him, "Thanks, but that isn't necessary. My boss back east took care of that already."
She wasn't about to tell Ross, but Chloe felt the same sense of vague recognition that he did, and it had nothing to do with the blonde. It bothered her, that she couldn't place the older woman in the photograph, but she'd bet money that she knew her from somewhere.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seacouver
Duncan took his eyes off the road for a second, just long enough to glance at the pair seated next to him. The motion of the car sent Jonathan into a light doze as his sister cradled him, in the carrier, on her lap. Laura herself sat ramrod straight, her eyes riveted to road in front of them. Duncan wondered what was on her mind, then recalled the story about her parents. He imagined she was thinking of their brutal deaths. Perhaps I can get her to talk about the way she died, he said to himself.
"Tell me about yourself." When did you first become Immortal? Was it before or after your mother and father were killed? Do you understand what happened to you and your brother?
"Not much to tell," she said, glancing at him briefly. "Dad married Mom when I was five years old, and he adopted Jonathan and me. After that, we lived in place after place, usually sticking around a few months before moving on."
"Oh."
"I don't know what made Jonathan the way he is," Laura continued, answering part of Duncan's last unspoken question. "Mom always said it was an accident," she looked down at Jonathan, "but what kind of accident could do this to him? I asked her once, but she just got real sad and real quiet, so I never brought up the subject again."
Duncan got a similar impression when he saw the shadow come into Laura's eyes. They spent the rest of the drive in uneasy silence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As he drove south, David Burke let his mind drift back to that night. The rage over Melissa's betrayal threatened to overwhelm him. How dare she? She knew how important it was for him to get back to a normal life after 'Nam. Why did she want to foist those brats off on him as if they were his own flesh and blood?
He didn't discount Vandenberg's role in destroying his life, either. Even so, part of him wanted to feel grateful to his teacher for telling him the truth about their kind's inability to produce offspring. That would've saved him a lot of grief later on, he supposed, should he want to exercise his normal male desires on someone other than his wife. No, no bastards could be laid at his doorstep. The bitch tried it anyway, though.
Burke laughed mirthlessly. He'd been tailing Melissa and her brats ever since that night, coming just within reach of them time and time again before she and her brats would escape yet again. Now that she and her fake husband were dead, the brats would have no place left to hide. Finally, he would have the justice that was denied him all these years.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Laura had only two pieces of luggage, but it appeared to Duncan that she must have crammed every item of clothing she and Jonathan owned into them. The duffel bag, the smaller of the two, nearly pulled Duncan's arm out of its socket when he picked it up. He didn't want to think about the weight of the huge upright suitcase which Laura insisted on handling, in addition to her brother, his carrier, and the diaper bag. At least the suitcase had wheels on it, Duncan mused. How did she manage all this baggage on her own?
A few people were milling about the hotel lobby when Duncan and Laura stepped off the elevator, baggage and Jonathan in tow. Duncan was curious to know if any of them were Watchers, for surely an Immortal like Jonathan commanded a lot of attention, especially with an Immortal sister acting as his guardian.
"Mac," Laura inquired, "why are you helping us?"
Pushing all speculation about the Watchers aside, he turned to her and answered, "Because you asked."
"I asked Joe, not you."
"I volunteered, then." Duncan gave her a cocky half-smile.
"Is it a habit of yours," she quipped, "playing the knight in shining armor?"
"Sometimes."
Jonathan started crying, then. "Oh, honey, what's the matter?" Laura cooed, tilting her head down to look at her brother.
"Maybe he needs to be changed," suggested Duncan.
"I don't think so . . ." Laura's voice trailed off eerily, and Duncan opened his mouth to ask why, but the sensation hit him at once. Another Immortal, and chances were that it wasn't a friend. Duncan looked left, right, then his eyes fell on the hotel's revolving front door, where a man wearing a dingy looking, beige-colored overcoat and carrying a large black rucksack entered the lobby. Duncan took in the man's close-cropped, dark blond hair and narrow-set eyes. His mind made an instant connection between the stranger and the Kesslers.
"Mac?"
Once again, Laura's voice interrupted Duncan's concentration, but this time, it sounded oddly weak. "What is it?" he asked, his stare still fixed on the new arrival.
"All of a sudden, my head's spinning like a top."
One look at Laura told Duncan she was in obvious pain. She had let go of the suitcase - though she still held onto Jonathan's carrier - and her free hand was at her temple. Feeling a sudden stab of concern, he told her, "Don't worry. You'll get used to it."
Laura slowly lowered her hand - a signal that whatever pain she felt had passed - and a bewildered frown creased her brow. "Get used to what?" she asked.
Duncan mentally cursed himself. This was neither the time nor the place to have that talk with her. "Never mind. Let's go."
"I need to check out first," Laura said, reaching into her jeans pocket and pulling out her room key.
"Let me take care of that," Duncan offered, taking the key out of her hand before she had a chance to refuse. He walked up to the registration desk, intending to cut off any contact the stranger might want to have with the Kesslers before it began.
The other Immortal was already signing the hotel register by the time Duncan reached the desk. Duncan handed the young receptionist Laura's room key, and she called up Laura's bill on the hotel computer. The second the receptionist turned away from them, Duncan addressed the man. "The name's Duncan MacLeod," he told him. "In town long?"
The greeting wasn't meant to be a casual one. Without even looking up, however, the stranger coolly responded, "Just passing through, friend."
Duncan didn't buy that lie for a second. He handed the receptionist his credit card, and she swiped it through the card reader and printed up a receipt. With the receptionist's attention once again diverted, Duncan leaned forward and whispered in an ominous tone, "If you want them, you'll have to go through me."
The man caught Duncan's thinly veiled threat, for he quickly gave Laura and Jonathan the once-over. Laura, her gaze on her brother, seemed unaware of what was transpiring at the registration desk. "Them?" the stranger scoffed. "Not even worth the effort."
"I hope so."
Burke watched as MacLeod rejoined his companions and ushered them out the revolving door. How nice it was that the brats found a protector! And one who was oh-so-willing to offer up his name. As soon as he could, Burke would look up the man's address and seek him out. Not to take his head - at least, not yet - but wherever this Duncan MacLeod was, he was sure to keep the brats near him.
