Chapter 102

England

Once disgorged from the shuttle tube of the Chunnel, Avril Mischkov had sped through the outlying regions of South London as he headed northwest… toward the city of Liverpool.

He contemplated checking in with Watcher Headquarters here… but then considered what he was about to do. He figured there might be some problems with his intentions toward Amy Meyers' children. For years, Mischkov had been operating basically answerable only to Henry Rawlins. He did not intend to change now.

He'd get in contact once his plan was accomplished. With the children in his hands… one of them anyway… he'd likely kill one as a warning… their mother, her husband, and her father… Mischkov still couldn't believe he had missed that piece of information… would do whatever he wished. Already he could see it now… the blood… the limp body… the terror in the eyes of the other child. Mischkov felt himself harden in the sheer pleasure of the thought of a small child's broken body in his hands once more.

He'd let Rawlins and his crusade pull him from his private pursuits. He'd focused instead on restraining his urges by means of the scourge so that he'd not be a weakness that Rawlins' enemies could exploit against the Watcher. But now… he would restrain himself no longer. His hands begged for a child to snap. His body throbbed with the need to release all his pent-up energy into one of them.

Mischkov licked his lips. Soon… very soon… the children would be his. Oh what he'd do to one of them… he didn't know which one yet… would so horrify the family… that they'd be pawns in his hands in their efforts to get the other back. And who knows… Mischkov leered… he might just let the other one go… alive.

-----

Just under two hours later he pulled slowly to a stop outside the modest residence of Laura Ayers-Brennan and parked carefully.

Glancing in the rear view mirror… he smoothed his thinning hair and adjusted his turtleneck collar. He must appear perfect. Tugging at the cuffs of his jacket he shrugged inside it and smiled pleasantly, practicing his greeting.

Once certain that he appeared as he needed to, professional, non-threatening… Mischkov calmly alighted from his vehicle and closed the door. First he'd deal with the two men in the parked car. Easily he strolled up to it and waved… a pleasant smile across his face. "Burt Meyers sent me. I'm your relief." Easily he leaned over the car.

The two men looked at one another and then at Mischkov. "Password?" one of the men asked.

"Ahh… yes… the password." Efficiently Mischkov reached for his Luger and swiftly fired twice… hitting each man between the eyes. As the driver slumped over the seat… the enforcer pushed the body to one side to prevent it from landing on the horn. Mischkov glanced around… concerned that even with a silencer on… the shots might have been heard. But he saw no movement anywhere.

Satisfied for the moment, he crossed the street and rang the bell at the front door of the row house.

He stepped back from the door and held his hands loosely behind him as he gazed about the area… taking in the quiet neighborhood… and the sounds of children's laughter.

The inner door opened and a mature woman of medium height, with salt and pepper hair… a woman who in her youth may have been a great beauty… smiled at him from the other side of the locked outer door. She punched a button and the intercom crackled to life.

"Yes? May I help you?"

Mischkov smiled genially and pushed the button. He leaned to close to it as he said pleasantly, Ms. Ayers-Brennan? I'm Avril Mischkov. Your daughter works for me. I have some information she wanted me to share with you concerning Joseph Dawson."

Laura's face paled slightly. "Has something happened?"

Mischkov smiled and waved a hand diffidently. "I really would prefer to speak to you in person. This information is not for…" he glanced around and then lowered his voice and winked conspiratorially, "… the uninitiated." He straightened and waited.

She looked concerned. Finally Laura unlatched the outer door and held it open. "Come in then. I think I recall Amy mentioning your name."

Mischkov entered with a "You are most kind," on his lips. He followed Laura into the house and passed her as she stood to close the inner door behind them.

"Please Mr. Mischkov… has something happened to Joe?"

She said nothing else as he turned and swiftly fired off a single shot between her eyes from his Luger. She crumpled to the floor… blood pooled about her head. He sighed. Unlike the immortals he'd shot over the years… she was quite dead. He nudged her with one foot to be certain.

His interest was caught by the nearby sound of laughter. Replacing the weapon inside his jacket once more, the enforcer followed the sound to the kitchen and stood at the back door facing the long narrow backyard. Like most English gardens of row houses… it was long, narrow, and surrounded by a tall wooden fence. His activities would not be seen.

The twins were racing about playing tag with one another.

Mischkov observed them a moment as he tried to decide which one to kill and which one would be more fun to keep. Should he gut the little girl in front of her brother's eyes… and then use the boy as he so wanted to. Or should he skin the boy and force his sister to help. Raping a little girl of so young an age was always a real pleasure.

Again he felt himself harden in anticipation. "Slowly," he said. "These things must be done slowly." Yes! It had been so long since he'd last killed a child… he didn't want to rush it. He wanted to relish each moment.

And even though the scene could play out unobserved… it might not go unheard. He'd have to deal with that. Perhaps he should take them both. Mischkov glanced behind him at Laura's body. After all… he'd already left his calling card.

But still… to kill one of them would be ever so lovely… and he could make it a work of art that the parents would never forget. They'd know he meant business. "Eenie... meenie... minie... mo!" he moved one finger back and forth, leering as he did so at the innocence he was ready to brutalize and destroy. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Once more he composed himself. He opened the back door and stepped out into the sunlight. When the children paused in their running… to stare at him, he raised one hand in a gentle wave. It all came back to him. It was like riding a bike. All he had to do was win their trust.

The boy came running up… followed by his shyer sister. "Who are you?" Dawson asked.

"I'm a friend of your mommy's. I work with her," Mischkov said pleasantly and crouched before the small boy. Dawson had chubby cheeks and light brown hair. His knees below his short pants were skinned and bandaged… as was one elbow.

Abigail pulled at her brother's arm. "We're not supposed to talk to strangers," she reminded her brother. Her hair was a darker shade of brown. Two round blue eyes peeked out from beneath long lashes.

"Oh… but I'm not a stranger. I work with Mommy."

"Don't care," Abigail said stomping her foot and pulling her brother back. "Nana said not to talk to strangers."

Dawson was nodding and backing away.

Mischkov smiled. "Your Nana is absolutely right. She's right inside." He stood and held the door open. "Go ask her if you need to be certain."

Abigail watched him warily as she eased inside the door. Dawson shrugged… almost embarrassed by his twin's attitude. He followed his sister.

Mischkov let the screen door close and then closed and locked the back door. He grinned. Time to play.

-----

Paris

Pierre Gautier stood easily at the southside of the obelisk in the center of the Place de la Concorde, where once the guillotine had stood centuries before… and removed the heads of mortals and… if the Chronicles were correct… a few immortals as well. In his arms were several files.

He was alone… as he'd promised MacLeod. Gautier knew the Highlander had no reason to trust him… no reason to believe anything he might say… so he was determined to do this as the immortal requested.

He knew he did not look threatening. He was, after all, in his seventies. He was portly, his thinning white hair and wire-rimmed spectacles made him look scholarly. He didn't even have his small revolver as a backup. If the Highlander wanted to kill him… he would. But from everything he'd learned from Dawson in recent years, Pierre did not believe he was in any real danger as long as his actions did not threaten the immortal or his people.

One young man approached and grabbed one of his arms. Pierre started to sputter and then recognized Cory Raines. A second young man, tall and sandy-haired and unknown to him took his other arm as the two steered him through the crowd. He went willingly.

Near some souvenir booths he saw him… Duncan MacLeod. The Highlander was wearing dark glasses. A long light coat whipped about him as he faced Gautier. Raines pulled the files from his hands and began to thumb through them. The other young man patted the Watcher down.

He shook his head and backed off.

"So I'm here," MacLeod said evenly.

"Merci, Monsieur MacLeod," Gautier clicked his heels and bowed slightly. "Dawson has spoken to me of your great sense of honor. I…"

"Get on with it," MacLeod interrupted.

"Ahh... oui," Gautier reached for the files. Raines shrugged and handed them back to him, then backed away to watch the surrounding crowd. Gautier cleared his throat. "I and others of my era are attempting to re-take the reins of power for our organization. Joseph and I and others became aware some time ago that things were happening that shouldn't have."

"And…" Duncan leaned in threateningly.

Gautier nodded. "Please, Monsieur… let me finish." When Duncan nodded, Gautier continued. "Certain of our membership have evidently been convinced that immortals hold the secret to eternal life. To that end… we believe they have been kidnapping and studying immortals for a number of years."

"Tell me something I don't know!"

"Oui!" Gautier held out a folder. "When Jacob Kell wiped out the Sanctuaries back in 2002, a vacuum developed in our organization. The Sanctuary project had given us interesting information about the immortals we held for the future… they were volunteers…" he insisted as Duncan's lip curled angrily. "Those records came to the attention of some of our newer, younger members. As we retired and they began to take over the reins of power… the Sanctuary Project became enticing to them." He shook his head. "Evidently they did not ask for volunteers."

Duncan glanced through the papers in the file.

"That is a list of all the special properties where the Sanctuary Project Volunteers were kept… and who they were. A list I think you might already be familiar with."

Duncan peered at him quizzically.

"Yesterday… a facility in northern California was attacked and over a dozen of our personnel were slaughtered. This morning… you and your friends attacked a facility in Paris…"

"No one died!"

Gautier nodded. "Oui… that is so. One man… however is severely injured." Gautier touched his throat.

"A few days ago… another of our members was also severely injured by a young woman."

"Get to the point."

Gautier nodded. "This morning… about the same time as the attack in Paris… there were attacks in Taranto, Italy and in Brisbane, Australia. After I spoke with you on the phone, I also learned of an attack on a facility in Beijing. My people… some of them innocent Watchers who have no clue as to what is happening… are dying. It must stop!"

"What about my people?"

Gautier nodded. "Given time… I will locate where they are being held and I will insist they be released."

"That isn't good enough!" snarled Duncan.

"We are not murderers, Monsieur… we are historians! Our imperative has always been to watch and record. We do not interfere! Those who have done so will be punished. I assure you!"

"I want my people released… now!"

Gautier's shoulders sagged. "If it were in my power it would have already been done."

"So what's the problem?"

Gautier pulled out a white handkerchief and rubbed it over his sweating brow. "The North American Coordinator is balking. He has lost too many of his people and he insists the immortals responsible for the slaughter of our people in California be avenged. He's evidently got some kill squads operating.

MacLeod's face paled.

"I need to assure the other coordinators that this is not an all-out war! I need to show them that you people are reasonable and that I can end this. To that end…" he paused, waiting. When Duncan nodded, Gautier continued, "I need the young woman who attacked our Watcher at St. Julien Le Pauvre a few days ago and who is apparently the same one who accompanied you this morning when she attacked and injured another one of our people.

"Absolutely not!"

Gautier shook his head. "If I am to show I have leverage with you… you must let me have the woman. I swear to you she will not be harmed!"

"Find… another… way!" Duncan finally managed to utter.

Gautier sighed and rubbed his brow thoughtfully. "I don't know another way. In every negotiation there must be something given by both sides."

"We've already given."

Gautier met the Highlander's dark gaze.

"Our people have been ripped out of their lives by you people. They've been killed, kidnapped, mistreated, raped, used as test subjects for God knows what… We've already given all we are going to. Now… you go back to your people. I want to know where they are being held." He slapped the file against his palm. "I want to know where Methos is. And I want your assistance… or at least your assurance that you will not interfere… in whatever happens.

"And I warn you… if any more immortals die because of this… you will have a war on your hands that makes the last one look like a skirmish. The first thing I'll do is make certain every immortal still living knows about your little secret organization. You've survived so long because no one knows about you. Dawson convinced me not to tell too many other immortals unless I trusted them. Now… I'll tell them all… even the ones I don't trust."

"But… but… but immortals will turn on us. People will die!"

"People are already dying!"

Gautier nodded. This was not going as he'd hoped. Not only that… but MacLeod was not the man Dawson had described to him. This man was dangerous!

"Further… if anything… and I mean anything… happens to Joe Dawson or to any members of his family… I'll personally be looking you and the other coordinators up!"

"I assure you Monsieur… nothing will!" Gautier clicked his heels and bowed.

"You better make certain of that. Now get out of here before I decide I need something else."

"Of course," Gautier turned and scuttled across the plaza. When he turned to look over his shoulder, neither the Highlander nor his two companions were anywhere to be seen.