Leaving Richie to train under the careful eye of Charlie DeSalvo, the manager of the dojo he'd bought in the wake of Tessa's death, Duncan made a swift return trip to San Francisco to investigate the death of Diana Hamilton… his last student.
Under a leaden gray sky that spoke of impending rain, he emerged from the small private airport terminal and made swift arrangements for a rental car. He'd chosen to fly privately for this flight so that there would be no security checks… and he could manage to keep his katana with him. He'd learned, over the years, that this worked best for short trips.
On the flight, he'd sat in the small six-passenger cabin with three businessmen headed to a convention… holding his coat in his lap, making certain the sword's presence was carefully concealed… and that the coat appeared to drape naturally over his lap. The three were busy imbibing from the mini-bar cart and involved in a contest as to who could tell the most off-color joke. Duncan had closed his eyes and tuned them out as best he could.
His thoughts on most of the flight were of Diana as young immortal, promising student, and stalwart friend. She'd never had illusions about winning the game… just living the best life she could in the extended time she'd been given. As he settled into the rental car, his thoughts were still on her, and on the details of the accident that he'd managed to gather. While there was some indication that the recovered body had been drinking… Duncan had serious doubts. Having died her first death in a car wreck that had claimed the life of her husband… Diana was nearly fanatic in her belief that drinking and driving did not mix.
He worried that he was taking time from Richie and his need to train the boy for his life as an immortal to check out the death of his former student… but things just didn't add up… and he wanted to discover the truth. Once he'd done so… he could concentrate on Richie… give him the time he needed… before sending him out into the world. But first… he owed Diana enough time to get the facts of her death and to discover for himself if she'd died from an accident… an immortal… or a mortal.
Reaching the building that housed her advertising business, he parked and entered, stopping to tell the receptionist that he was an old friend of Ms. Hamilton's and ask if there was someone he could speak with about her death. The receptionist recalled him from his recent visit, and buzzed him up to see Marcy Carruthers… Diana's personal assistant.
"As you can see Mr. MacLeod," Marcy gestured widely after greeting her late boss's friend, "we are in a bit of an uproar. At least she had a will and had laid out a plan for the business in case of a sudden death… but it's still a shock."
"Have the funeral arrangements been made?" Duncan asked as he took in with a glance the hustle and bustle about the management offices.
"We're still waiting on the coroner to release the body. Evidently they are still hoping to locate the head. They haven't even really made a positive ID yet. As a result… we can't legally proceed with anything."
Duncan nodded and thanked Marcy for her time. He gave her his card and indicated he'd be interested in knowing the arrangements when they were made. He even offered to speak as an old friend. Upon leaving, he noticed a man getting his shoes shined look up from his paper and make momentary eye contact before ducking behind the pages of his newspaper once more.
Duncan paused, and then crossed the street to sit next to the man as he put his feet up for a shine. While waiting… he leaned closer to the man. "See anything interesting?"
The man, mid-thirties, thinning brown hair, glasses, glanced at him and then snapped his paper shut with a huff as he reached into his wallet for money and cut the shine short. Duncan grinned as the man stalked off. He'd caught sight of the tattoo on the man's wrist. He wondered if the man were one of Dawson's people… or one of the ousted members of Horton's circle. At least the madman was dead… Duncan had seen to that. He briefly recalled the satisfaction he'd felt running Horton through with his katana, although he still winced slightly at killing the man in front of his daughter. He truly had hated doing it in front of her. If only Horton had stopped… but he hadn't. Duncan shook off the memory. He needed to concentrate on the here and now… and on finding out how and even if… Diana had died.
Later, he slipped into the morgue's waiting area at police headquarters and waited for the attendant to take a lunch break so that he could get into the cold room itself and look at the body up close. He snatched the clipboard, which identified the current contents of the drawers and noted three "Jane Does". He started with those. The second drawer he opened was that of a headless corpse. Duncan returned the clipboard to where he'd found it and pulled back the sheet to examine the corpse.
The neck had a ragged tear consistent with the preliminary findings that the head had been torn off by blunt force trauma and not by a smooth cut… like a sword. Diana had a small mole on the back of her left shoulder… this body didn't. Further, when he examined the hands, he noted that there was no sign of long term ring wearing. Diana, he knew, and had recently seen for himself, still wore her wedding ring. The body had been fingerprinted… but Duncan knew that Diana had probably made certain not to be fingerprinted for anything. Still, any good detective could collect prints from her offices and apartment, and eliminate prints to make an ID. Likely the police were working on that.
He shut the drawer and found the file on "Jane Doe #2" stacked on the attendant's desk. He scanned through the toxicology reports. There had indeed been alcohol in her system, although not a large amount. Satisfied, Duncan left the morgue. He was certain now that Diana Hamilton was still alive. Yet, if she had staged this accident… why had she done so? Surely she wouldn't have murdered someone just to disappear. It wasn't her style. He doubted that he could get into her apartment… it was likely staked out… and it was Diana he wanted to find. If she'd left him a clue… it wouldn't be in her apartment. It would be someplace else… someplace that Duncan knew she frequented.
Duncan pulled up outside Silvio's Gym, and stepped out of the car. He removed his coat and carefully locked it in his trunk. He wanted to be able to go beneath the radar here. Grabbing the small gym bag he'd brought with him, he adjusted the lightweight jacket, slammed the trunk lid and sauntered in.
After purchasing a one-day pass, he changed in the locker room and began to work out, listening carefully to any conversation he could overhear about Diana and her accident.
-----
"I hate this part," Diana muttered once they'd reached the small mission style church a few blocks away.
Garrett regarded her skeptically as she found them an isolated corner of the church garden… a bench near the cinerarium. "Have you had to do this often?"
Diana smirked, "Actually… no. But I dislike pain… and it does hurt. Now promise me you won't call for help or otherwise garner attention."
Garrett nodded.
Diana pulled out a penknife, opened it, and offered it to Garrett. "Test it… see if it's sharp."
"How?"
Diana smiled. "Cut your finger… a small cut will be fine."
"Wait… I thought this was about you?"
"Well… you need to be certain I'm not pulling a fast one." Diana smiled with a wink. "Go on… it won't hurt… much."
Garrett hesitantly held the penknife over the tip of his little finger, sliced and grimaced. "Ow!" He tossed her the knife as he sucked his finger and pulled out a handkerchief to stem the blood flow. "That hurt!"
"Trust me…" Diana smirked, "you'll live."
Once he'd calmed down, she held the knife over her left palm and winced as she dragged it through her flesh. Tears sparkled in her eyes, which she blinked away while managing not to cry out. Garrett grabbed her hand, pressing the handkerchief to the wound.
"Jesus, Di! I thought you were going to do what I did."
"Remove the handkerchief, Garrett."
"You're bleeding."
"Not any more." Diana still felt the after-effects of the pain… but she also knew that he had to see this… and see it now… when it was impossible to believe. She recalled Duncan showing her this after he'd killed Kelso and explained to her what he was… what she was.
Garrett gingerly lifted the handkerchief… stared… wiped at her palm… and stared again. Finally he met her gaze, the astonishment clear in his eyes. "There's no wound."
"Not any more," she replied, letting him hold her hand. Right now, human contact felt very comforting. Garrett turned her hand over and kept feeling both sides as if somehow the cut would reappear. Finally Diana said with a small laugh, "Please don't ask me to do it again. As I said… it still hurts. I'm not Superman. I heal quickly… but I still feel the pain of every wound."
Garrett dropped her hand, rose from the bench and paced, shaking his head. Suddenly he stopped and looked at her strangely. "Wait a minute. You said someone was trying to kill you. If you heal… how is that possible? I thought you said you were immortal… that would mean you can't die."
Diana shook her head. "I can't tell you that… not now. Just understand that there is a way… and others like me… who heal like this know it." She hesitated to tell him the rest of it… about the game… how old she really was. This was enough, she felt, for him to take in at one time.
Garrett paced some more. Finally he threw up a hand. "Look… I gotta think about this. Call me later… okay?"
Diana nodded and remained in the garden while she watched him leave. He needed time… hell… she'd needed time when confronted with this. She'd had the advantage of having just watched a challenge… but it had still been a shock. What worried her was that if Duncan were right… this man would have another shock coming to him one day. She still couldn't tell if there was something about him, that other immortals… older immortals… could sense. Duncan had once told her he'd almost always been able to tell, but she had no way of knowing for certain except for Duncan's suggestion that she watch Garrett.
She needed to get out of this town while the word was still out that she was dead. She should never have involved Garrett… never have put his life in danger. Waves of guilt flowed over her until she realized she was sitting in a cold rain. The storm that had hung over the city all day had finally broken. Diana pulled the hood up of her all-weather coat and moved slowly to the covered walkway of the cinerarium. She'd have to talk to him once more… just to be certain that he was all right with this… and then she was out of this town.
-----
"MacLeod's in town," Horton said as he got off the phone. "One of my people saw him at the Hamilton woman's office."
"Then we can kill him here and now," the immortal replied smoothly.
Horton smirked and shook his head. He'd watched St. Cloud work out against some mortal swordsmen… and while he defeated them… he still had problems. His prosthetic hook weighed more than his missing hand and it threw him off-balance. He still hadn't learned to compensate for it yet. If he went against MacLeod now… all would be lost. Horton wasn't certain he could find another immortal who hated MacLeod as much… but he had some ideas. St. Cloud had the advantage of being… controllable. Some of the others he was trying to contact…weren't.
"Patience St. Cloud. If the Hamilton woman is still alive… MacLeod will find her. How fitting then, to kill her just as they part and he thinks she's safe. Besides… he can get information that we can't. If we do this right… we'll destroy him beyond all possibility."
"What about his new student? What about turning him against MacLeod?"
"The Highlander is intently moralistic. For him… everything is black and white. All we have to do is to put young Ryan in a situation where he and MacLeod will disagree. They part on the worst of terms… and then… we will make the most of the situation."
"You really are a very sick man, Mr. Horton."
Horton laughed and clapped his hands together, rubbing them in delight. He dropped them when he noticed St. Cloud staring at them with a sense of loathing and hatred. "Apologies, Mr. St. Cloud. I did not mean to make light of your situation. No insult intended."
"None taken," St. Cloud said, biting off his words as they were uttered, but it was clearly evident that he did take offense. The loss of his hand was still a painful one and that worried Horton. True it made St. Cloud more than willing to work with him… but Horton worried that the Moor was slightly unbalanced mentally, and more than a little anxious to pay MacLeod back.
"MacLeod will be on the hunt right now… and prepared for a challenge. We need to wait… and mow him down when he's isolated and alone."
"He's alone here!" snapped St. Cloud.
"But he's not yet despondent. He's hopeful… he's curious. No… we'll let him discover if the elusive Ms. Hamilton is alive and then strike at the moment he feels relief." Horton steepled his fingers deliberately before him and leaned back in his executive chair. "I don't want to just kill him. As I told you… I want to destroy him"
-----
Garrett slammed his locker door shut, grabbed a towel and his racquet and headed for the racquetball court. His regular partner wasn't here today… but it didn't matter… he'd allow anyone on the waiting list to play. Right now, he felt the need to hit something… numerous times… and racquetball seemed to be the safest activity.
As he waited his turn just outside the court, watching the two men below through the heavy acrylic window, he noted the dark-haired man approaching through the hallway. He was broad-shouldered… and Garrett couldn't recall seeing him at the club before.
"I noted you had an opening. Do you mind if I join you?" the man said pleasantly. Then he smiled and held out his hand. "I'm Duncan MacLeod."
"Garrett Sunderson," Garrett replied returning the gesture and noting the firm grip. This man was strong… very strong. His muscles rippled on his arms and he moved like a man who had been in the army or something… very fluid… almost silent. Garrett immediately was on the alert. "Yeah! Sure… I could use a partner. Otherwise… I'd likely kill the ball before my time ran out."
"You come here often?" MacLeod asked.
"Couple times a week," Garrett replied. A buzzer sounded and the two men below on the court stopped running, bent over and were laughing as they took a breather before packing up and leaving. Garrett descended the stairs, MacLeod behind him, and opened the door to the court. He passed a joke on to the two men leaving… he'd seen them before, spoken with them several times… but didn't really know them. The door shut and he and MacLeod were alone on the court. "I warn you," Garrett said, as he made ready to serve the ball, "I play for keeps."
"So do I," MacLeod said crouching to be ready to return the serve.
Garrett nodded, tossed the ball and slammed into it with his racquet for all he was worth. MacLeod ran past him… hit the ball after it bounced and returned it forcefully. Garrett grinned as he continued the volley. It was going to be a great workout!
The buzzer sounding the end of their time on the court sounded far too soon it seemed. Both men were sweat-drenched and breathing heavily.
MacLeod looked over at Garrett with a grin and slight nod of his head. "Buy you a carrot juice."
Garrett smiled and laughed as he gathered his things. "Make it an apple and you got a deal," he winked. After showering and re-dressing, Garrett glanced at his watch. He could spend about half an hour here before heading to the studio. He still had copy to go over and game films to look at to prepare for tonight's broadcast. He was likely falling behind on his new job due to this mess with Di Hamilton. At that moment he realized that for the first time since he'd found her body washed up on his beach, he'd actually spent some time not thinking about her and her predicament.
In the juice bar, he found MacLeod waiting for him. The man held up an apple juice with a grin and Garrett popped the top off the jar and downed it. "Ahh… " he said and sat on one of the high stools. "So you new around here?" Garrett asked.
"Me… no. I was here with a friend recently. I was in town and since I liked the place, I thought I'd pay for a day-pass."
"Then you won't be joining us?" When MacLeod shook his head, Garrett laughed. "Guess I'll have to keep looking for a partner then."
"You're pretty good," the man said.
"Thanks. I have to stay in shape somehow. I'm a minor celebrity in this town."
"Really?"
"Sports on the local independent."
"Nice pay?"
"Not bad. Great hours. I get to go to high school games… a few college games… and if the main anchor is busy… a pro game or two."
MacLeod laughed and tossed his empty juice bottle into the trash. "Sounds like a good life. I hope you get the most out of it."
"Yeah… me too."
MacLeod stood up and offered him his hand. "Good luck then." He shouldered his bag and left.
Garrett finished his juice thoughtfully and wondered if MacLeod had been pumping him for information. "Get a grip… Sunderson!" he finally chuckled as he tossed his juice. "After all… you really don't know anything." But he did know something… and it preyed on his mind.
-----
Duncan had been about ready to leave the gym when he'd seen the pre-immortal come in. He hadn't overheard anything about Diana… other than what was on the news. A little checking had gotten the young man's name… and he'd seen the opening on the racquetball court as the perfect chance to get to know him a little. He wondered off-hand if Diana had been watching the man… or if he'd been in on her "accident" somehow. But after a half-hour of batting the ball back and forth… Duncan decided that Sunderson was exactly what he appeared to be… a pleasant young man who enjoyed life in the public eye. Duncan found he rather hoped that the young man would get that life… and not end up prematurely on a slab… and in the game.
But Garrett Sunderson was not his responsibility. Richie would need his attention for some time to come. The young man, while adjusting well to the concept that he was immortal due to his having known about Duncan, was still untrained and unprepared for the game. Duncan had not wanted to train him prior to something happening, for fear Richie would figure it out… and his chance of immortality would be lost.
Richie had been lucky recently in that premature challenge to Annie Devlin. Duncan just hoped he could keep Richie from going off half-cocked against the next immortal he came up against. Richie reminded him of other students he'd had… impetuous… filled with a sense of their own immortality and totally unprepared for the reality of the immortal life with its fight to the death challenges.
Thinking back over the centuries and what had happened to his students, Duncan again felt unprepared to be Richie's mentor and teacher. Again his self-doubt sought to overwhelm him. He'd tried to teach them as he'd been taught… both by Connor and by the father who had abandoned him once he'd returned from the dead. He'd tried to instill honor and confidence into his students. He'd tried to be certain that they understood not to go looking for a fight… but to meet it head on when it came.
But of them all… only Diana and Greg Powers still lived. Greg was confused these days and Duncan despaired of his ever straightening out his life again. But Diana… If someone were after her… Duncan felt certain that her days were numbered. She was in hiding. She had to be. But where? If it had happened suddenly… where would she have gone and whom would she have trusted?
Duncan watched Garrett Sunderson saunter out of the gym, throw his bag in the back of his car and drive off. Did he know Diana? Was he hiding something? Duncan started his rental car and followed. Several hours later, he watched the young man leave the studio. So far he was exactly what he'd said he was. Still Duncan followed, parking at last on one of the sandy beach streets with houses that bordered the ocean. The rain earlier had washed the street down so that the pavement was once again visible. Yet already, the omnipresent offshore breeze was drying out the white sand and it lifted in small cyclones… whirling about on the surface of the sand. Soon the road would be covered again.
Sunderson entered his condo and turned on the lights. Then he swiftly turned them off again… as if wanting to be certain no one could see in. Duncan smiled as he pulled his katana from the trunk and adjusted his coat. He crept closer to Sunderson's condo… feeling at last the slight tingle of another immortal. He drew his blade just in case. After all… it might be whoever was after Diana.
As he reached the front door, he could feel the other immortal just on the far side. Slowly he intoned just loud enough for the other to hear. "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."
"Duncan?" came Diana's voice. She opened the screen. In the darkness he could see light on her blade. "Well don't just stand there… or don't you trust me?"
Duncan chuckled and entered; sweeping her into his arms with the sudden realization that she really was alive and well. He hadn't lost her as he'd lost the others. She pushed at him slightly so he dropped his embrace. "Just glad you're alive." He glanced over to shadowy figure of Sunderson. "How much does he know?"
Sunderson lowered the baseball bat. "I take it you're like her… and that those swords can do more damage than you can heal."
"Something like that." He turned to Diana, "What happened? Why did you involve him?"
"I sorta washed up dead on his beach. It wasn't exactly my idea. He saw more than he should have."
"Hey!" Sunderson said. "He is standing right here!"
"Draw the blinds Garrett… we need to talk," Diana ordered and then hugged Duncan. "I'm glad you're here."
"Had to check on my favorite student," Duncan murmured. He brushed her auburn hair back and kissed her forehead. "I was worried."
"Me too," Diana replied, "but I was handling it. Still… it's good to see you again."
By this time, Garrett had drawn the blinds, turned on a small lamp that gave off "mood" lighting, and was bustling about making coffee. "Let me guess… old friend?"
Duncan nodded and thanked the young man. He met Diana's gaze. She looked uncomfortable. "I can take you back to Seacouver with me. It's drivable."
"Thanks… but no thanks." Diana sipped on the coffee and then set it down. "I'm not your student anymore, Duncan and you have enough on your mind. I can handle this. I'm just glad you know that I'm alive. I'd planned on dropping you a postcard once I got settled somewhere." She rubbed her hands up and down her arms thoughtfully.
"Tell me what happened," Duncan urged.
Diana nodded and eyed Sunderson. Finally, as if deciding that there was no other way for it, she told him about the fight in the parking garage and rescuing the young woman who'd witnessed it… and the accident. She omitted the term swords in mentioning the fight.
"I tried to help her… she's dead because of me."
"In the long run…" Duncan added. "It might have thrown off whoever was looking for you. The body could have been taken for yours except for a few minor details.
"And the head might be too decomposed if it's even found," Diana added softly. "She'd dyed and styled her hair like mine."
"What about her family? Friends?" Garrett asked.
Diana shook her head. "I did some on-line research earlier on her. I don't know if she had any family. As for friends…?" Her voice trailed off as she shrugged. "I just need time to get out of town."
"Then let me help with that. I have some contacts. I can get you a new set of identity papers… whatever you need," Duncan explained.
"I already have some," Diana said with a shake of her head. "I planned for this years ago. Really… I was paying attention to you all those years ago." She offered him a rueful smile. "I just have to leave. I'd have done so already… but I wanted to be certain Garrett was all right with what he'd learned. That he'd be fine… that he wouldn't tell anyone. Otherwise… you'd have missed me." Diana flashed the first real smile Duncan had seen all evening.
Garrett snapped his fingers. "I've got it! The guys after you are government people… like in the X-Files. They want to study and test you."
"No Garrett. They want us dead," Duncan explained. Again he wondered how much to tell this young man. "There are a group of men who know about us and fear us. They seek to prevent our survival."
"Kind of a Master Race?" Garrett laughed lightly.
"Hardly," Diana protested. "We're just people who want to survive Garrett. We're hard to kill… but our enemies keep trying."
"So… let me guess. They think you're dead because this girl lost her head?"
Neither Diana nor Duncan said a word.
"That's it! That's the way you die! Holy crap!" Garrett's sports reporter side was in full gear as he paced about excitedly. "Man what a story this would be!"
Diana rose swiftly. "Garrett… you can't. You can't even hint at this. It would mean your death… or at least the end of your career and would set Duncan and me up for target practice. We'd not have a moment's peace. We'd be hunted non-stop."
"And what's going on now?" Garrett's voice rose in the argument.
"Now," Diana said evenly and at a nod from Duncan, "for the most part… we can lead normal lives until we are found. Then we vanish, move on, and start again."
"Change your name," added Garrett as he sat heavily.
"Sometimes," Duncan chuckled. "At the very least… we move on and leave our old lives behind."
Garrett leaned back thoughtfully and then pursed his brow in confusion. "So… how many times have you had to do this Di?"
"A few," she replied with a shrug.
"And you?" Garrett met Duncan's gaze. His reporter's mind was whirling with the unspoken possibilities here. "How old are you?"
Duncan smiled almost to himself. Finally he replied. "I was four hundred my last birthday."
"Years?" Garrett gulped wide-eyed. When Duncan nodded, Garrett rose and pulled a bottle of scotch from under a table. "I think I need something more than coffee… anyone else?"
Duncan nodded. "I always did like good scotch."
Diana tittered and picked up her coffee. "Just sweeten my coffee Garrett." She held it out while he poured.
This was going to be a long night.
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