*-*-*-*
Neville Rutherford had been released not long after Dylan had left the hospital. As a matter of fact the doctor walked into the small TV/ waiting area right after she had walked out and informed him that he could go home and finish healing there. Once arriving at his Beverly Hills mansion he called Charlie and informed him that Dylan was alive and had left the hospital. It had been the first time he talked to Charles Townsend in years. They had met at Oxford and became fast friends too bad Charlie developed an over blown sense of ethics and they fell out years later because of that.
As he sat in his wing backed chair he wondered if Dylan and Anthony managed to get their act together. He chuckled softly to himself as he remembered the protective way that Anthony stood just slightly behind her ready to pounce when he brought her to visit for the first time. Even if the Chief hadn't told him what to expect he would have figured it out within the first two seconds of the couple stepping into his office. He couldn't fault the assassin's taste Dylan was quite lovely and for some reason, his old loyalty to Charlie perhaps, he felt the need to protect her as much as her assassin did. Thinking about the museum gala and how obvious it was they loved each other despite the clinging of Kate also brought a small smile to his lips. The ringing of the telephone startled him out of his thoughts. He reached across himself with his good hand and answered it. "Hello?"
"Neville Rutherford?" inquired the voice on the other end.
"Yes,"
"She's out," was the only reply. He knew who the caller was. He had hired one of his many contacts to keep an eye on the Dylan situation now the only question was who "she" was. "And the bodyguard is with her." Rutherford sat there with the receiver pressed to his ear after his contact on the other end had hung up. The monotonous beeping of the phone being off the hook snapped him out of his thoughts. "She? She? She?" he muttered as he paced the floor of his office quite disappointed that for the money he paid the man the service wasn't that good. Years ago a down-payment of two hundred thousand would buy at least a name. "Maybe I'm getting to old for this," he said sighing as he sat down again at his desk. He rubbed his temples in frustration. He knew that his contact wouldn't have called him at all unless it was important.
"Sir, your evening paper," said the soft spoken voice of his butler from the doorway. Rutherford looked up and waved the man in. The butler approached with the paper folded neatly on the silver tray. Rutherford removed the paper. As he unfolded it his eyes darted over the headlines. A small article in the lower corner caused him to whoop with joy. "By Jove that is it!" Grabbing the receiver he attempted to make a call but the other party didn't answer. Hanging up the phone he said, "Well I guess that means I'm off to save the day. Childs, get me my hat and coat."
"But sir, the doctor said." began the butler but Rutherford cut him off. "No "but sirs", this evening Childs. A young woman needs to be a saved!"
Childs hesitated for a moment. Sometimes he didn't know why he bothered. Twenty five years of service and Rutherford never listened to his advice. "Oh well," he sighed then left the room. A few minutes later, when Rutherford had begun to assume that his butler would never return, Childs reappeared carrying the objects his employer asked for. "Since you are bound and determined to do this Sir, I took the liberty of telling the chauffer to prepare the jag."
"Splendid! Well done. I and the fair maiden will forever be in your debt."
*-*-*-*-*-*
Kate unlocked the door and stepped inside. She held out her hand signaling to Christoph to wait a moment then called, "Anton? It's Kate. Are you home?" There was no answer just the steady ticking of the grandfather clock. Turning to Christoph she said, "Okay come inside, he doesn't appear to be here."
"Doesn't appear to be or isn't? Kate, the man is a mute." He shook his head and laughed at her. "Did you really think he would answer you?"
Kate glared at him then turned to hang up her suit blazer. She didn't mind that he wanted to kill Dylan. She just didn't understand why they went back to the house. Dylan would be more than likely where ever it was she lived. Finding out where wouldn't be much of a problem that is what telephone books, and if that failed, computers were for. As she turned back around Christoph was gone. Her mind whirled frantically wondering where he had gotten off to.
She found him in the living room browsing through one of the many shelves of books. "There you are," she said relieved. "I was worried you were getting into something." He didn't answer. Instead he pulled a book off the shelf and then took a running leap landing in a reclining position on the sofa. "What do you think you are doing?" she cried. "That is an antique."
"The book or the sofa?" he asked laughing. "Come on Kate, the whole place is antique. Did you see this?" Christoph held out the book for her perusal. "It's an original first edition 'Crime and Punishment' 1866. Do you think that your 'Anton' would read this? Do you think he could?"
It was printed in Cyrillic like most of her late uncle's books. Honestly she didn't know what languages Anton understood although she assumed Russian would be one of them. After all he did live several years with her Uncle. The fact that Christoph could read it threw her off. "I didn't know you spoke Russian."
"You wouldn't. My father taught me when I was a boy. I never really used it but I never really forgot it either," he explained then opened the book and began to read. "On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked slowly, as though in hesitation, towards K. bridge.' Some one should have told your uncle that while famous that this book is dull."
"Sort of strange that is book you picked, as you plot a murder," she said sarcastically. Then slowly he began to tear the page out of the book. "What do you think you are doing?" she sputtered indignant that he would come into her home and destroy books that her uncle so loved. "Does that make it any less dull? And you call yourself a Harvard man. I would think you have some sense of the value of the classics."
"It keeps me entertained while we wait for your precious Anton." He tore another ivory page out and let it flutter to the floor.
"What makes you so sure he is coming? You said it yourself he wouldn't be here pining for me therefore he would be with Dylan. And as you said this place is full of antiques; very dull for someone with her low breeding." She then jerked his legs of the sofa onto the floor.
"Oh they will be coming. I know human nature. He will go to her. They will kiss and make up. Then he will come here, more than likely with her in tow to get whatever he left behind."
"You can't be sure of that!" she exclaimed. "My thoughts are, however much I don't enjoy them, is that if they do make up they will fall into bed. I don't think they will be here before morning and goodness knows I won't be letting you shred my uncle's books all night long."
Christoph just laughed at her then took the flask from his pocket. He held the bottle out in a toast like gesture and said, "To your sweet naivety. May it never desert you. Trust me Ekaterina I know what I am talking about." Then he took a swig of the bitter liquid.
"You may also know then that you are committing suicide. How simple do you think it will be to kill Dylan with Anton here? The man was a professional assassin for god's sake. He won't let you or anyone else near her. He has the foolish notion in his head that he is in love with the little tramp. Are you prepared for that?" she asked hoping to talk him out of what she believed a foolish plan.
Christoph began very slowly to applaud. The clapping sounded dull and lifeless to her ears. "Kate, I am impressed. Your head isn't completely in the clouds. You realize that he does love her and not you." She didn't know any such thing but Christoph was frightening her and she wasn't about to disagree with him. She knew that Anthony was simply misguided and that he loved her. She could only hope that Dylan's death might place his heart on the right path, the path to her. "I'm very prepared. You see the first step is for him not to know I am here. I'll try to explain."
*-*-*-*-*
Dylan reached over and turned the radio on causing Anthony to jump in surprise as a loud male voice started yelling the chorus of "Temple of Love." He looked at her, he preferred riding in silence. He had a lot on his mind all having to do with the young woman sitting next to him. She just smiled, apologized and turned it down a bit. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting it to be so loud." Because she looked so happy he left the music on although it wasn't his style at all. It also wasn't very much further to Dimirti's house.
It had been quite sometime since he had seen her smile. "I have to warn you that Alex is the one cooking tonight." Even in the darkness of the car she could see his eyebrows shoot up in alarm. Dylan had mentioned Alex's culinary skills to him before but he had yet to try them for himself. "She has gotten better." He could only hope that was the case. "I remember her first attempt at muffins. They could knock holes in doors." She glanced at him again. "She isn't serving those tonight so relax," said Dylan with a laugh. "By the way despite how she acts, I think Alex has a soft spot for you." He could believe that Alex's cooking wasn't as bad as Dylan and Natalie joked that it was but he was fairly sure that Alex didn't like him.
"I tried to kill her," he said wincing at the memory of fighting the dark haired angel at the mission in Carmel.
"You tried to kill all of us. Hell you slammed me into a brick wall, but I still love you."
Anthony reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze and then flipped on the turn signal turning on to the street on which the house was located. Instead of pulling up the over grown drive he parked on the street to avoid damaging the sports car's paint. As he waited for Dylan to get out he looked around the neighborhood for signs of danger. It was an old habit of his one that he doubted that he would ever out grow. He saw the unusual looking car on the corner. It wasn't an American car and it stood out in an odd yet benign sort of way. Although he doubted the car signaled danger something about it put him on alert. "What's wrong?" asked Dylan noticing that he was suddenly tense.
"Probably nothing," he said and slipped his arm around her waist yet making sure the sword was firmly in his hand as they walked up the walkway together. As they passed the hedge-line that separated the street from the house Anthony quickly looked up at the darkened windows. "Did you see that?"
"See what?" she asked. He was starting to make her nervous. She looked around and everything looked normal, quiet except for a neighborhood dog barking in the distance.
"I thought a light was on inside. It's gone now." She watched his eyes as they darted over the front of the house. Then softly he said, "Someone is here."
Neville Rutherford had been released not long after Dylan had left the hospital. As a matter of fact the doctor walked into the small TV/ waiting area right after she had walked out and informed him that he could go home and finish healing there. Once arriving at his Beverly Hills mansion he called Charlie and informed him that Dylan was alive and had left the hospital. It had been the first time he talked to Charles Townsend in years. They had met at Oxford and became fast friends too bad Charlie developed an over blown sense of ethics and they fell out years later because of that.
As he sat in his wing backed chair he wondered if Dylan and Anthony managed to get their act together. He chuckled softly to himself as he remembered the protective way that Anthony stood just slightly behind her ready to pounce when he brought her to visit for the first time. Even if the Chief hadn't told him what to expect he would have figured it out within the first two seconds of the couple stepping into his office. He couldn't fault the assassin's taste Dylan was quite lovely and for some reason, his old loyalty to Charlie perhaps, he felt the need to protect her as much as her assassin did. Thinking about the museum gala and how obvious it was they loved each other despite the clinging of Kate also brought a small smile to his lips. The ringing of the telephone startled him out of his thoughts. He reached across himself with his good hand and answered it. "Hello?"
"Neville Rutherford?" inquired the voice on the other end.
"Yes,"
"She's out," was the only reply. He knew who the caller was. He had hired one of his many contacts to keep an eye on the Dylan situation now the only question was who "she" was. "And the bodyguard is with her." Rutherford sat there with the receiver pressed to his ear after his contact on the other end had hung up. The monotonous beeping of the phone being off the hook snapped him out of his thoughts. "She? She? She?" he muttered as he paced the floor of his office quite disappointed that for the money he paid the man the service wasn't that good. Years ago a down-payment of two hundred thousand would buy at least a name. "Maybe I'm getting to old for this," he said sighing as he sat down again at his desk. He rubbed his temples in frustration. He knew that his contact wouldn't have called him at all unless it was important.
"Sir, your evening paper," said the soft spoken voice of his butler from the doorway. Rutherford looked up and waved the man in. The butler approached with the paper folded neatly on the silver tray. Rutherford removed the paper. As he unfolded it his eyes darted over the headlines. A small article in the lower corner caused him to whoop with joy. "By Jove that is it!" Grabbing the receiver he attempted to make a call but the other party didn't answer. Hanging up the phone he said, "Well I guess that means I'm off to save the day. Childs, get me my hat and coat."
"But sir, the doctor said." began the butler but Rutherford cut him off. "No "but sirs", this evening Childs. A young woman needs to be a saved!"
Childs hesitated for a moment. Sometimes he didn't know why he bothered. Twenty five years of service and Rutherford never listened to his advice. "Oh well," he sighed then left the room. A few minutes later, when Rutherford had begun to assume that his butler would never return, Childs reappeared carrying the objects his employer asked for. "Since you are bound and determined to do this Sir, I took the liberty of telling the chauffer to prepare the jag."
"Splendid! Well done. I and the fair maiden will forever be in your debt."
*-*-*-*-*-*
Kate unlocked the door and stepped inside. She held out her hand signaling to Christoph to wait a moment then called, "Anton? It's Kate. Are you home?" There was no answer just the steady ticking of the grandfather clock. Turning to Christoph she said, "Okay come inside, he doesn't appear to be here."
"Doesn't appear to be or isn't? Kate, the man is a mute." He shook his head and laughed at her. "Did you really think he would answer you?"
Kate glared at him then turned to hang up her suit blazer. She didn't mind that he wanted to kill Dylan. She just didn't understand why they went back to the house. Dylan would be more than likely where ever it was she lived. Finding out where wouldn't be much of a problem that is what telephone books, and if that failed, computers were for. As she turned back around Christoph was gone. Her mind whirled frantically wondering where he had gotten off to.
She found him in the living room browsing through one of the many shelves of books. "There you are," she said relieved. "I was worried you were getting into something." He didn't answer. Instead he pulled a book off the shelf and then took a running leap landing in a reclining position on the sofa. "What do you think you are doing?" she cried. "That is an antique."
"The book or the sofa?" he asked laughing. "Come on Kate, the whole place is antique. Did you see this?" Christoph held out the book for her perusal. "It's an original first edition 'Crime and Punishment' 1866. Do you think that your 'Anton' would read this? Do you think he could?"
It was printed in Cyrillic like most of her late uncle's books. Honestly she didn't know what languages Anton understood although she assumed Russian would be one of them. After all he did live several years with her Uncle. The fact that Christoph could read it threw her off. "I didn't know you spoke Russian."
"You wouldn't. My father taught me when I was a boy. I never really used it but I never really forgot it either," he explained then opened the book and began to read. "On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked slowly, as though in hesitation, towards K. bridge.' Some one should have told your uncle that while famous that this book is dull."
"Sort of strange that is book you picked, as you plot a murder," she said sarcastically. Then slowly he began to tear the page out of the book. "What do you think you are doing?" she sputtered indignant that he would come into her home and destroy books that her uncle so loved. "Does that make it any less dull? And you call yourself a Harvard man. I would think you have some sense of the value of the classics."
"It keeps me entertained while we wait for your precious Anton." He tore another ivory page out and let it flutter to the floor.
"What makes you so sure he is coming? You said it yourself he wouldn't be here pining for me therefore he would be with Dylan. And as you said this place is full of antiques; very dull for someone with her low breeding." She then jerked his legs of the sofa onto the floor.
"Oh they will be coming. I know human nature. He will go to her. They will kiss and make up. Then he will come here, more than likely with her in tow to get whatever he left behind."
"You can't be sure of that!" she exclaimed. "My thoughts are, however much I don't enjoy them, is that if they do make up they will fall into bed. I don't think they will be here before morning and goodness knows I won't be letting you shred my uncle's books all night long."
Christoph just laughed at her then took the flask from his pocket. He held the bottle out in a toast like gesture and said, "To your sweet naivety. May it never desert you. Trust me Ekaterina I know what I am talking about." Then he took a swig of the bitter liquid.
"You may also know then that you are committing suicide. How simple do you think it will be to kill Dylan with Anton here? The man was a professional assassin for god's sake. He won't let you or anyone else near her. He has the foolish notion in his head that he is in love with the little tramp. Are you prepared for that?" she asked hoping to talk him out of what she believed a foolish plan.
Christoph began very slowly to applaud. The clapping sounded dull and lifeless to her ears. "Kate, I am impressed. Your head isn't completely in the clouds. You realize that he does love her and not you." She didn't know any such thing but Christoph was frightening her and she wasn't about to disagree with him. She knew that Anthony was simply misguided and that he loved her. She could only hope that Dylan's death might place his heart on the right path, the path to her. "I'm very prepared. You see the first step is for him not to know I am here. I'll try to explain."
*-*-*-*-*
Dylan reached over and turned the radio on causing Anthony to jump in surprise as a loud male voice started yelling the chorus of "Temple of Love." He looked at her, he preferred riding in silence. He had a lot on his mind all having to do with the young woman sitting next to him. She just smiled, apologized and turned it down a bit. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting it to be so loud." Because she looked so happy he left the music on although it wasn't his style at all. It also wasn't very much further to Dimirti's house.
It had been quite sometime since he had seen her smile. "I have to warn you that Alex is the one cooking tonight." Even in the darkness of the car she could see his eyebrows shoot up in alarm. Dylan had mentioned Alex's culinary skills to him before but he had yet to try them for himself. "She has gotten better." He could only hope that was the case. "I remember her first attempt at muffins. They could knock holes in doors." She glanced at him again. "She isn't serving those tonight so relax," said Dylan with a laugh. "By the way despite how she acts, I think Alex has a soft spot for you." He could believe that Alex's cooking wasn't as bad as Dylan and Natalie joked that it was but he was fairly sure that Alex didn't like him.
"I tried to kill her," he said wincing at the memory of fighting the dark haired angel at the mission in Carmel.
"You tried to kill all of us. Hell you slammed me into a brick wall, but I still love you."
Anthony reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze and then flipped on the turn signal turning on to the street on which the house was located. Instead of pulling up the over grown drive he parked on the street to avoid damaging the sports car's paint. As he waited for Dylan to get out he looked around the neighborhood for signs of danger. It was an old habit of his one that he doubted that he would ever out grow. He saw the unusual looking car on the corner. It wasn't an American car and it stood out in an odd yet benign sort of way. Although he doubted the car signaled danger something about it put him on alert. "What's wrong?" asked Dylan noticing that he was suddenly tense.
"Probably nothing," he said and slipped his arm around her waist yet making sure the sword was firmly in his hand as they walked up the walkway together. As they passed the hedge-line that separated the street from the house Anthony quickly looked up at the darkened windows. "Did you see that?"
"See what?" she asked. He was starting to make her nervous. She looked around and everything looked normal, quiet except for a neighborhood dog barking in the distance.
"I thought a light was on inside. It's gone now." She watched his eyes as they darted over the front of the house. Then softly he said, "Someone is here."