Chapter 4 of 12

(Bladelover)

Walking past the glass front of Le Blues Bar, Methos belatedly noted the presence of an immortal, which turned out to be MacLeod. Damn. He'd hoped to catch Joe alone. Maybe he could slip back away and return later…

No, MacLeod had spotted him and was waving him inside and over to the table he and Joe occupied. Putting forth his customary air of bored irony, Methos entered the bar, slouched into a chair, and asked for a beer, which Dawson promptly delivered.

"Glad you're here," Duncan was saying. "Joe has found out something interesting."

"About?" Methos sipped his beer and projected a lack of real interest as Joe eased back into his chair.

"About your friend Kendall Crane."

Methos cocked his head at MacLeod and spoke in a lazily sarcastic tone. "Crane? If you were going to meddle in this yourself, why did I have to get involved in the first place?"

"Did you talk to him?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I told him to either ignore the buffoon who is following him or confront him and tell him to get lost."

"What?" Dawson sounded a little appalled. "You told him to go after his Watcher?"

"No, I gave him two options. I also emphasized that there was little likelihood of any real threat. I doubt Kendall will be proactive enough to choose the second option. He just wanted his mind eased more than anything."

Joe did not seem completely mollified, but said, "Well, you may have given him a false sense of relief, then. We do have a Watcher on him, but that's not who he's spotted. Our man has reported seeing another guy on Crane's trail since before he left Italy a couple of months ago."

Methos made a pretense of mild surprise. "Really. Who is he?"

Joe shook his head. "We're not sure. Our guy has tried to follow him a couple of times, but his assignment is to keep tabs on Crane. He was ordered to stick with his immortal."

"Observe and record, never interfere," Methos murmured, taking a deep swig of the beer.

"Glad to hear you still remember," Dawson drawled.

After a slight, sarcastic nod, Methos asked in a bored voice, "What was Kendall up to when your guy first noticed the other tail?" He was dismayed to note MacLeod's sharp look of interest; apparently, he had failed to fool at least one of his friends into believing his show of indifference.

"Nothing, really. Crane's mostly a drifter. He's always 'just passing through.' Our guy's been bored stiff most of the time, at least till Crane started hanging out with that artsy crowd in Venice."

Methos allowed one eyebrow to rise. "Artsy crowd? Kendall?"

Joe nodded. "His watcher found it a nice change, having actual encounters to report, with people who weren't either waiters or passersby. He was sick of Crane just hanging out everywhere he went." Joe gave a little laugh, remembering the frustration in the Watcher's reports.

Methos stared into his mug of beer following this unwelcome bit of information. Kendall had never been one to appreciate the fine arts, so a sudden association with "artsy" types was unlikely to be for personal enrichment. Ditto his newfound appearance of purpose.

Although the old immortal had just recently been complaining to himself about Crane's need to get a life, he now found himself wondering just what sort of new life his former student might be embarking on – and how it might affect his old teacher. Certainly, the reference to art was disturbing given its association with the old enemy whose name Methos had found in a certain wallet yesterday. For the first time, he began to wonder about Kendall's true intentions in coming to Paris and seeking him out.

He became aware of the eyes of both Joe and MacLeod watching him intently. He feigned puzzlement. "What?"

MacLeod leaned forward. "You look a little troubled. What's on your mind?"

Methos smirked. "Not troubled, just perplexed, wondering what an 'artsy crowd' would be doing bringing a philistine like Kendall into their midst. Maybe it's one of those pranks like college fraternities do, where they all bring an unpopular girl to a party."

Joe smirked back and shook his head, getting up to go back behind the bar. Methos noted without looking that MacLeod's eyes still regarded him skeptically.

"You're not going to tell me what's really bothering you, are you?"

Airily, Methos retorted, "I'd love to tell you what's bothering me, MacLeod, but you always accuse me of whining." Draining his glass, he stood up abruptly yet without apparent hurry, gave a cockeyed salute to MacLeod, and made a lazy exit from the bar.

Out on the street, the twinkle had left his eyes and his look was anything but lighthearted.