Chapter 96

Paris, Watcher Headquarters

John had not seen where these Watchers were taking him. He'd not expected to. His calm acceptance of his captivity seemed to fluster a few of them. They'd secured his wrists tightly with a nylon tie that cut into his wrists. Even with his greater strength and power… if he pulled too hard… the narrow nylon would do some damage. John had not fought.

He'd sat quietly on the bench in the rear of the van as it careened through Paris. Across from him… two Watchers sat holding guns on him. A third was nearby with a sword. The two in the front seat were also armed.

John "Kage" Kirin was well and truly a prisoner.

When the van paused at a gate, he knew they were nearly there… or at least on the first stop. This was the one Dawson and his daughter had known of… this was where she worked. This was likely where he'd be held for a while. Amy had told him that she thought the immortals were being moved on.

"With the transponder signal, Burt's task force can follow where you go when and if they move you." Unsaid in her remarks was the possibility that Mischkov might have warned the Watchers and that John was walking into a deadly trap.

He'd accepted that. He'd accepted that he'd likely die. But if by his choice others could be found and saved… Grace would be safe… then it was worth it. "I atone for my past," he thought. This was the final movement in his journey toward redemption. "My life for theirs."

The van moved forward and came to a stop a minute later. The driver turned off the ignition and the rear doors opened. Additional armed men stood ready at outside.

"All this for him?"

He was motioned out and climbed into the light. He stood straight in the morning light and drew a deep breath of the spring air. As before, his smile and utter acceptance of his captivity caused a few to mutter. Almost apologetically, he was pushed toward the main entrance of the building.

Once inside, he passed a number of people who stared at him with confusion. It was as Amy had said… many did not know what was going on. Around him he heard them murmur.

As elevator doors opened, he stepped quietly aboard and stood against the car's rear wall while five of his guards… weapons at the ready… followed him in. The elevator went down until it at last opened on a long hallway.

"This way," said one of his guards. John walked in the direction he was told. Double doors opened and he entered a laboratory area. He felt an immortal presence and swept his gaze about the room. Against a rear wall were three gurneys… two of them occupied by drugged immortals. John took in their unconscious state and the IV poles dispensing oblivion.

He turned with a smile to the white-coated individual, apparently in charge. "Bon matin… good morning."

The man stuffed his hands deeply in his pockets and looked askance. Evidently no immortal had ever been brought here other than unconscious.

"Remove his restraints," he ordered as one guard stepped forward with clippers. The others pointed their weapons at him.

"I assure you…" John said holding out his hands. "The weapons are unnecessary. I will offer no resistance."

The restraints were clipped and he dropped his hands.

"I need for you to strip then," the doctor, if that is what he was, said quietly.

John nodded and removed his jacket. He began to unbutton his shirt and slipped it off. Both were grabbed by a guard and searched thoroughly.

John looked around. "I assume you mean everything?" At the curt nod, he kicked off his shoes and undid his trousers and pushed them down. He stepped from them. For a moment he hesitated, then removed his undershirt, briefs and socks. The air in this place was cold… an air conditioner was evidently cranked up. The hairs on his bare skin stood up as he reacted to the cold.

"Spread your arms and legs."

He did so and let them examine and probe him, saying nothing.

Evidently satisfied, he was motioned to the third gurney. Climbing on it, he lay back and a sheet was pulled over him. The guards still stood about… weapons pointed as if any moment he'd rise up and slay them. John sighed.

The white-coated doctor tied a rubber tourniquet about John's left arm until his vein popped up. The man tapped the vein, then held up a needle attached to the pouches of drugs. "This will only hurt a moment."

John nodded as he stared at the white ceiling and felt the pinch in his arm. The doctor opened the valve and John felt cold fluid race into his veins. Yet in the aftermath… as his cognitive functions began to close down… he felt warm… and strangely safe… as if wrapped in light.

-----

Upstairs, commotion ruled the day. On the heels of the arrival of the immortal several of them recognized as Kage… came word of an attack on one of the facilities across town. Paris had always been a draw for immortals… and the Watchers owned several pieces of property here. While this one was where the main library was currently located, at other facilities were offices, and training academy classes for new recruits.

To several at this facility… the arrival of Kage under guard and the attack on the classroom building must be related. No one was reported dead… but the building had been breached. Had Kage returned to the bully and mercenary he had been? If so… why had he seemed so calm… so pleasant… nodding with a smile at some of them as if they were his dearest friends. To a few… his capture and incarceration rang eerily of Darius. Among many of the older ones, a sense of guilt for their unwitting part in the death of the priest still rang a chord.

Others expressed curiosity as to why Kage was being taken downstairs to the medical section. It was in the midst of this, that Henry Rawlins' secretary, Debra James, arrived. Her face paled as she listened to what had happened. She hesitated to admit she'd been remiss in her duties about contacting the Paris offices last night. Could the attack have been prevented if she'd called it in when Rawlins had called her?

Word was coming over the wires about events in Italy this morning and in California yesterday. Debra held her head in her shaking hands as she listened to the death toll. "We are no threat to them!" she inwardly groaned. "We only Watch and record their lives for the future. Why have they done this?"

"Has anyone heard from Mischkov this morning?" Rawlins was currently unavailable and Mischkov was the man in charge.

"He called in the location of a safe house where he thought we'd find Kage earlier," said one Watcher. "We sent the squad there… didn't find Kage or Grace Chandel. The place was empty."

"Any further word?" There was murmuring among those present. No one had heard from the enforcer in hours.

"Did he say where he was? What he was doing?"

The Watcher who'd taken Mischkov's hurried message shook his head. "I gather he was on assignment for Rawlins."

There were a few people present who knew that "on assignment" likely meant the man was interrogating someone. Feet shuffled back and forth nervously. Some knew Mischkov was deadly, while others only disliked the cold and unfeeling assistant director.

Debra cleared her throat. "We need to open lines of communication with the separate groups and learn what is happening. This erratic behavior by immortals does not seem to be located only here. The Council needs to meet!"

The Watcher's Council had pretty much been dissolved in recent years as Rawlins and his faction had gathered more and more of the reigns of power to themselves. Perhaps it was time for a return to the old days.

At the door… retired Watcher and former council member Pierre Gautier agreed. "If there is anything I can do… I am at the Council's disposal." No one noticed the merry twinkle in his eye. Gautier had been visiting some of his protégés in recent weeks and was known to many of the new Watchers as a pleasant man with a vast knowledge of immortals and a calm demeanor.

The few who knew him well, and who had already been approached by him, smiled as they watched the master tactician in operation. Gautier appeared willing to help with the current crisis… but not eager. He'd motion denial of being in charge… and then reluctantly accept it… purely on a temporary basis… of course… just until the Council could be re-assembled.

Swiftly he barked orders about setting up a satellite conference… or whatever the organization used these days… in the main boardroom. He would chair the meeting in Rawlins' apparent absence. When someone asked about Kage downstairs… Gautier shrugged. "Until I've met with the Council and we know what is going on… I'm certain he will be fine." Pierre turned away with a wry smile. While he'd have his people attempt to go through Rawlins' and Mischkov's records, he hoped that those who were in Rawlins' inner circle, would make the attempt to take Kage and the others Amy Meyers had seen being held downstairs to wherever the others were being held.

If Amy were right… it might be the only way they'd ever know what was truly going on… and where.

-----

Outside the Watcher facility, the remnants of Burt's task force huddled in their van. The GPS clearly showed the location of the prisoner within the building. He had not moved for some time. Burt had told them to listen to Amy… and to proceed with plans.

The task force members knew Amy's father had been tortured, two members of their team were dead, and the man Mischkov that they'd been watching was evidently on his way to England… and Burt's children. Several of the group had wanted to accompany Burt… but he'd been unwilling to wait for them. "Besides… Amy will need you… Joe's friends will need you," he'd told them over his cell phone. "The best way you can make certain that the right people pay for what happened to Roberts and Tamika, is to do your job." Peter Ryan focused on the signal. They were gassed up and ready to go once it started moving.

Half an hour later… it moved. Ryan watched the signal slowly change location… and then move more quickly.

"A supply truck just pulled out of the back entrance," called in Javier Moreno.

Ryan gave a nod. "You and Shawn stay on watch here while we head out. Watch each other's back. Contact Burt's wife, Amy that we are on the move and keep her in the loop. We'll be in touch."

"Will do. Good luck!"

"Luck is not a factor," said Ryan as he rang off. The van pulled out and kept pace with the truck. Idly he wondered how Burt was doing.

-----

The Chunnel

Burt watched through the window as Le Shuttle sped swiftly through the underground Channel tunnel. While underground… his cell phone was inoperable. He felt cut off from everything… and he was worried. Was Mischkov ahead of him? If so… was he a danger? He, Amy, and Joe thought so. And how went the operation? He had to trust that his team would follow his instructions and do whatever Amy asked them to do. The members of the team did not know about immortals, only that this group that Amy worked for, was apparently kidnapping people and holding them somewhere. He didn't know what they might end up seeing. Amy and Joe had filled him in on several aspects of the immortals… especially the fact that some of these people could and would kill anyone in their way.

With that he wondered about Mischkov. He'd been in a hurry when he'd taken the man's pulse… and Joe had been in obvious distress. Had Burt missed the pulse… or was Mischkov immortal? And if he were… would Burt have the expertise and strength to stop him?

The shuttle slowed, and Burt fumed… tapping his fingers on his steering wheel. This was normally a twenty-minute trip. Was Mischkov on this same train? Or had he found another way… a faster way? Burt turned on the radio and heard only static. He punched the CD player and his tapping began to beat in concert with the rock music.

Slowly… the blaring music calmed him… helped him focus. He had everything he needed to do this job… he had to focus on his children… and their lives. But part of him wondered how Amy and Joe were doing.

He'd call her again once he was out of this.