Chapter Thirty-Four
Washington, D.C:

When she'd awakened, the memory of the last beating still a burning memory in her mind, Sarah Manning had almost hated to move, much less get up. But she had, and had taken a few moments to carefully make the immaculate bed and smooth the wrinkles. She wanted Kingsley to have no reason to beat her again.

Again and again the memory of the lead pipe descending on her in its bone-crunching severity made her hold her breath. Tears sprang to her eyes. But despite it all… she discovered when she'd looked at herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror of the sliding glass closet door… she was whole and her skin was flawless. She was as she'd always been. True, there was still that small scar along one arm where a customer had cut her once… but other than that… she was perfect. And she wanted to remain that way. She sat on the edge of the armchair, shivering slightly in the cool of the air conditioning. She could feel goose pimples up and down her arms and legs. Sarah closed her eyes and tried to think her way out of this situation.

Despite his small stature, Kingsley was all muscle and evidently accustomed to getting his own way. He knew just where to grab her to force her to his will. He knew how to twist her arm until it snapped. He knew how to entangle his fist in her hair and pull until she wanted to scream. He wanted this friend of Ben's. Why shouldn't she give him to him?

Because Ben won't like it! Sarah sobbed and then quickly wiped the tears away, fearful that he'd enter and see them and then hit her again. She didn't want that. She'd do anything to avoid that. The fear of painful death again and again at his hands was very real to her. Cassandra had once told Sarah about her early life and her torture at the hands of the horsemen who killed her again and again until she learned to be silent and hate them with vengeance. "Never let a man get the upper hand," her mentor had told her when first training her. "Men are pigs. They can't be trusted."

So Sarah had developed her man-hunting persona of a bitch in high heels and had always thrown her lovers for a loop and used her sex to control men… both mortal and immortal. Never had she met one she couldn't control. Not until now. She could feel him now… his immortal presence… moving about in the outer room. He was here… and he likely would be coming for her soon. She had to think of something! But what? She tried to clearly see the lost photograph of the island in her mind. She hadn't really studied it before… figuring she'd have it when she searched. Now… she had only the vaguest recollection of the mountain, the small town and the stone wharf. How many islands fit that pattern? How long would he wait until he'd not just beat her… but take her head?

She could smell the hated floral in her hair. Evidently he always cleaned her up with this stuff. It was cloying in its intensity. So much so that she wanted to cut it off.

She heard the bolt on the door pulled back and Kingsley opened it… staring at her coldly… without emotion.

Sarah smiled thinly and rose, trying to keep her hands from covering her breasts and abdomen. He didn't like that. She needed to show no fear. "Ready for me again?" she asked lightly as she stepped toward him.

He made way for her to pass. She made certain not to brush against him… he hated that… and headed straight for the computer where she began once more to search for an island that might… or might not be Greek; and that might… or might not have (or ever have had) an immortal named Gerard something or other in residence.

Perspiration built up on her and ran in cold channels down her sides and made the smell of her hair ever more cloying and close. Still she found nothing. Kingsley entangled his hand in her hair and pulled her head back suddenly. Then he laid a knife against her exposed throat and drew it back and forth, barely breaking the skin.

"I'm trying," Sarah pleaded. "Really I am."

"Try harder," he said with a sneer. "Hand."

Sarah reluctantly lifted her right hand from the keyboard, fearful of what he planned to do… but more fearful of what he would do if she refused.

Kingsley grabbed it and slapped it onto the table and swiftly rammed the knife through it.

Sarah screamed and then moaned as she sobbed.

"Now pull it free and get back to work," he said darkly. His lip curled slightly.

"I can't," Sarah wept and tried to hold touch her impaled hand with the other one. He slapped it away.

"Pull it free and continue."

Sarah bit her tongue as she pulled her hand free, watching as the knife's edge sliced cleanly through tendons and bone. She nearly blacked out as she cradled the bleeding hand against her chest and covered it protectively with the other.

He pulled it free and looked at it. "You'll heal. Now back to work." He shoved it toward the keyboard.

Sarah nodded weakly. It would heal… and blood would wash away. Awkwardly she continued her search, using her left hand on the mouse until the right felt better. How long! she groaned inwardly. But how long for what, she wasn't clearly certain. One thing she knew though, was that if she didn't find something soon, he'd kill her. Or worse… he wouldn't.

A page of island photos came up. She started to move on… when something about one of them caught her attention. It had nothing to do with the photo… it had more to do with the map in the little boy's room… a crudely drawn map that marked "Ruins" at the summit of the mountain. And "Stairs" down one side. She'd thought that some boy's fantasy but here it was… a photo of stairs carved into the side of a volcanic mountain… stairs that led to a small cove. "Here be Mermaids!" the map had read.

"You have something?" Kingsley asked noting her intake of breath. He leaned over her shoulder.

"Maybe," Sarah replied and clicked on the photo. Several moments later Sarah let out a long breath. "This is it… I'm certain of it. Niebos… privately owned. In the Aegean Sea. It has a temple to Poseidon and was the seat of an oracle over two thousand years ago."

"What makes you so certain," Kingsley asked as he straightened up and lit a cigar.

Sarah smiled at him and lied. "Ben once mentioned an oracle." She hoped he couldn't tell she was lying. She blinked and continued to smile.

"You're certain," he asked.

"It's the best bet so far. I can continue to look for photos of it now that I have the name."

Kingsley drew in cigar smoke and held it a moment before breathing it out directly into her face. "I don't think that's necessary." He reached over and shut the computer off. Running a rough hand over her face and brushing the hair out of it he smirked at her. "You wouldn't lie to me again would you?"

Sarah shook her head. Her eyes darted to the closed door of the torture room. Surely he wouldn't!

His hand moved from her face to her neck. He squeezed slightly as if to strangle her. His face showed no emotion. She managed not to grab at his hand. He smiled at her. "I do like having an immortal to play with. I can try so many more things and you always come back." He squeezed harder.

Sarah's eyes rolled back as she fought to remain conscious.

He let go and slapped her leg. "Good behavior is to be rewarded." Kingsley stepped over to the bar and returned with a store's white gift box, which he set on the table. "Open it."

Sarah lifted off the top. There… in the tissue paper… was a filmy white negligee. It wasn't much in the way of clothing… but it was a start. "Thank you," she said softly.

"Put it on."

Sarah pulled it out of the box as she stood up, and then pulled it on, smoothing it about her.

Kingsley grabbed her by the neck again. "What's given can be taken away."

She nodded in understanding.

He pulled her by her hand to the bedroom door and shoved her in, then closed the door and bolted it.

Sarah didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She was relieved that there had been no beating this time. She was relieved to have something to cover herself. But she was still cold. She rubbed her hands and stared up at the circulating ceiling fan and wondered if she dared to turn it off. She looked at the bed and wondered if she dared to climb under the covers. In the end, she sat on the chair and waited for his instructions.

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Burt Meyers surveyed the group of Watchers in the conference room. On the table was a set of gruesome photos of the body they'd recovered. He'd taken the red-eye from Paris as soon as they'd called him… and had slept only sporadically on the flight.

"Let me get this straight. You don't know for certain if an immortal was involved in this." He gestured toward the photographs. "You aren't certain if the kidnapped immortal is in any real danger. And you aren't certain about contacting the local authorities."

John Parker, the D. C. office supervisor nodded. "Essentially… yes. The problem is that research has determined that in the past few years… several women's bodies have been found in the D. C. area like this. The police have been keeping a lid on it… and few if any of the women have been identified. Complete bodies haven't been found for several. We know we're dealing with a serial killer… and that the immortal could be in danger. What we can't do… since we collected the body parts… is explain how we happened to locate them… and why we removed them. Doing so compromises our organization. But something has to be done."

Burt sighed. "I have to have free reign. I need to know that whatever I have to do… I can do." He met Parker's gaze and waited for the man to nod. "If the man is an immortal… I want clearance to deal with him."

Parker looked away before finally closing his eyes and nodding. "You realize if it comes to that… we might have to deal with Duncan MacLeod."

Burt nodded. "I do. He's been very clear on us not interfering in the game… but this…" he gestured again to the photographs, "… does not look like the game. It looks like this guy is a sick sonofabitch."

The sounds of the Watchers present, shifting about in their seats uncomfortably, rose and subsided. It was an old argument… one that records showed had been around for centuries. When do we stop observing? When is it necessary to interfere? Such discussions had led to the renegade Hunters under James Horton thirty years ago… and most recently to the aborted attempt by Henry Rawlins to enter and control the game. Since the Rawlins affair, the pendulum on that argument had swung back towards never interfering for any reason. But Meyers was right… this man had to be stopped and their organization was apparently in a position to stop him. Whether or not he was immortal… he had to be stopped. But at what cost? Would they lose the support of MacLeod if they broke their oath and sanctioned the killing of an immortal? Or would MacLeod agree with them that the man had to be stopped… but that he should be the one to do it?

Burt smiled at all of them. "Maybe it won't come to that. Now then… who has the research on this film company?" Papers were shuffled as the Watchers leaned forward to present their reports.

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Paris:

Dinner was an energetic affair with the conversation dictated by the twins. Methos smiled slightly, wondering if in a few short years such scenes would be the norm in his own household as the children grew. He said nothing, but noticed Amy smiling at him as if she understood his thoughts.

Dawson was especially smitten with Madeline… which made him no different from his grandfather and the two immortals present. The difference was… the boy didn't seem to mind staring at her in open admiration, the tips of his ears bright read, as he energetically spoke about his schoolwork and interests. At least Madeline seemed pleased to be the center of someone's attention.

Abigail … not to be outdone by her twin was commenting on his stories with a wit that Methos found oddly familiar. He glanced at Joe… beaming at both the twins and wondered if his friend saw himself in those young people… saw the young man he'd once been before war and loss had changed him.

Robert seemed amused as he watched the family dynamics. Sometimes his eyes unfocused slightly, a sure sign that his thoughts were with Gina. His mouth curved up slightly in a secretive smile. Likely Methos was the only one who noticed. It was a good sign that the separation was working.

Madeline had not been happy about learning that she was to be re-assigned for the time being… nor that her reports and accounts of what she'd seen and heard while a member of the de Valicourt household were now classified. Joe had assured her that it was no reflection on her abilities… he'd managed this with a straight face even as he'd regarded her with more than paternal interest.

"Now tell me what you know," he'd told her.

Madeline had explained the odd behavior of the couple and the swift arrival and interference of Amanda, MacLeod and then Pierson. "They seemed to know what was happening, but I've never heard of anything like this in all my studies. Could this be the end result of two immortals living together as husband and wife for over three hundred years… or could it be the Gathering starting?" the young woman had asked hopefully.

Joe had smiled and chuckled. "Well… married couples fight."

"Not like this Mr. Dawson. It was if they knew what the other was thinking!"

Joe had laughed. "I'm told long-married mortal couples can do that."

Madeline's face had fallen. "Then there's nothing there but a normal outgrowth of just being around one another?"

Joe had shrugged. "Evidently not."

"Then why am I being reassigned?" She'd looked back and forth between Joe and Methos with tears brimming in her eyes.

"It's just that they need some privacy to work this out," Methos had suggested, hating to even say anything.

Madeline had nodded. Then she'd focused on Methos. "What about you Mr. Pierson? You were a Watcher… or so you said. Where is your Watcher? Maybe I could be yours?" Methos had looked at Joe with a panicked expression.

Joe, too busy chuckling to notice had finally managed to say that he'd consider it. "In the meantime… I need an assistant to help organize the Duncan MacLeod file. Interested?"

Methos had rolled his eyes at Joe's smooth technique. The old Watcher had successfully distracted Madeline LeSeur and had managed to arrange to keep her around him for the foreseeable future.

"By the way," Joe had finished up, "how do you feel about the blues?"

Now, at dinner, Madeline appeared to be fitting into the dynamics of the Meyers-Dawson household and earlier had babbled about looking forward to her new assignment. Methos wondered how well this would work, but at least Madeline was no longer focused on observing Robert… or worse… Methos himself!

After dinner, Dawson and Abigail took Madeline on a tour of the house and Amy motioned Methos into her study for a private conversation. She had a bombshell to lay on him.

"Sarah Manning," she said and waited.

Methos stared at her without emotion. Finally he shrugged. "What about her?"

"She's vanished in America. The Washington area Watchers called Burt to see if he could find her. When I heard the name… I got worried."

Methos managed a smile. "Jayne mentioned her to you."

"You know damn right she did! Since that report… I've been studying her file. There's nothing about you in that file."

Methos shrugged. "My only contact with her was before she was immortal."

"That's what you told Jayne. But this is me, Methos. I'm your official Watcher. I want the truth."

He sighed as he sprawled in a French Provincial chair positioned near her desk. "Honestly… that's it. She wanted a personal relationship. I declined. She followed me. I evaded her… and kept Jayne safe in the process."

Amy leaned against her desk and crossed her arms. "Jayne says you were positively paranoid about evading her."

"I'd seen her file when I was in Watchers. She was a government spook at one time. I knew she likely still had access to government resources. I wasn't about to endanger Eleanor or the children," he spat out angrily.

Amy sighed. "She was in Washington D. C., Methos. I sent an operative out to the farm. The house had been broken into."

Methos' expression of disinterest froze and he sat straighter in the chair… his unspoken questions hung in the air between them.

"Besides a broken windowpane on a door which was the point of entry, nothing was touched… except for something in Marianna's room."

Methos waited.

"There was a broken picture frame tossed on the floor. Whatever was in the frame was missing."

Methos tried to concentrate. What was on the wall? What would have given Sarah Manning a clue as to where to find him?

"It was photo of Niebos… one of those touristy ones that Phillip puts on the website."

"You sound certain of that."

Amy smiled. "Sarah Manning was kidnapped but the kidnapper left behind her purse. The photo was in it."

Methos breathed a sigh of relief. Then he looked pointedly at Amy. "Kidnapped?"

Amy shrugged. "That's why they contacted Burt. They wanted him to use his contacts in law enforcement to investigate the case. He flew over early this morning. Apparently… there's a serial killer involved. Methos he could use your help. Is there anything I can pass onto him?"

Methos suddenly understood Amy's concern. Her husband was investigating a possible immortal. She was worried about him… about what he might have to do… or what might happen to him. "I wish I could help… but I honestly don't know anything."

"And you're not concerned about Sarah Manning?"

Methos stared at Amy. "Absolutely not."

"You know she was one of Cassandra's students…"

"Yes."

"And you're not worried?"

"At the time she was Cassandra's student… Cassandra did not know that I was still alive. Even if she mentioned me… she would not have known the name Benjamin Adams." He shrugged. "Besides… Cassandra and I have made our peace."

"So Sarah Manning's activities?"

"An infatuation. And not one I share." By this time his tone indicated his anger and Amy could hear sarcasm in it."

She sighed. "I didn't mean anything by it. But I was wondering if…"

"I'd go to Washington? Not bloody likely!"

"But if this is an immortal, Burt could be in over his head," she pleaded. Standing she paced and gestured futilely. "If I have to beg… I will."

Methos sighed. He owed Amy so much… especially for running interference between the Watchers at large and him. She kept his identity secret from most of the other bureaus so that he could live a somewhat normal life. But dammit! He wanted to go home. "I'm certain he'll be fine," he told her gently and rose to hold her still as he gazed down at her. He tilted her head up so that her eyes met his. "Burt will be fine. He knows the score… and he knows what to do."

"But Mischkov might not have been an immortal," Amy replied. "Burt was never certain."

Methos sighed. "He'll be fine… and he isn't alone. The Washington area Watchers are among the best trained. Besides, I still have Robert and Gina to deal with." He smiled at her. "Really… I'm certain it will be fine." Unspoken was his need to also find MacLeod. He planned to start checking the other addresses on the list of Craille's properties that Joe had given MacLeod. It would delay his plans to return to Niebos… but only by a few days.

Amy nodded and they returned to the parlor where Joe and Robert were deep in a conversation about music. Methos stretched out to listen, aware of Eleanor humming somewhere on Niebos. Evidently everything was fine there… but she didn't share anything specific. In fact… it seemed her mental wall of privacy was up.

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