Joe Dawson knew MacLeod was out of town. He hadn't yet had a chance to talk to Greta Conklin, but he'd left a message for her to stop by his office.
At a light knock on the door, he glanced up to see the petite blonde smile at him from behind her thick glasses. "You wanted to see me?" she asked in her raspy voice. Her accent still bore the signs of her Texas upbringing.
"Hey, yeah… c'mon in Greta," Joe motioned her to the chair opposite his desk. Since taking charge for the Northwest American Watcher Bureau in the wake of Horton's treason, he'd been camped out in James' old office at the old Patterson Manor on Whitethorn Avenue. The digs were a little more lavish than what he was use to, but James had always had excellent taste.
"Ya want something to drink?" he asked nervously.
Greta gazed at him levelly through glasses, her head tilting slightly to one side. "You've heard something about Diana?"
Joe's breath caught in his throat and he wondered if he truly were that transparent. "No," he replied softly.
Greta's shoulders sagged as a gasp escaped her throat. "I was so afraid you'd heard something… that I was being re-assigned."
"You think Diana Hamilton might still be alive?" Joe hated to hear that edge of hope in the woman's voice.
"N-n-no," she replied with a heavy sigh.
"Sounds like you think the world of Ms. Hamilton. Have you had personal contact with her?"
Greta gazed at her hands, clenching and pulling at a piece of tissue until it was shredded. "We had a conversation in an elevator once. Greta's voice was barely audible.
"And you reported it?" Joe wanted to tell her it was all right… that he understood… but to do so would likely make known his own involvement.
"No." Tears welled up in Greta's eyes. "It was nothing. The elevator stalled and we laughed and joked about it until it started again. She had no idea who I was or that I was following her. It lasted barely five minutes."
Joe sighed deeply. He'd been in the same predicament when Duncan
MacLeod had shown up at the bookstore. But then things had gone crazy, and he'd had to explain to MacLeod just who and what the Watchers were. He'd had to set him straight. Had he wanted to tell the Highlander? Had he wanted that personal relationship… one that truly allowed him to pick the brain of a man who counted his birthdays in centuries… not decades? "You still should have included that conversation in a report," he finally said.
"Yes sir."
"Now then," Joe opened Diana's file. "I want to pick your brain about her a bit."
Greta's brow knotted incuriosity. "Why?"
"Duncan MacLeod has gone to San Francisco to investigate Ms. Hamilton's accident."
Greta bit her lip.
"You know something?"
Greta leaned forward, carefully looking around as if the walls might have ears. "It wasn't an accident."
Joe gestured for her to continue.
"I mean… I didn't see anything… but on the news reports when they dragged the car out of the bay… the camera panned over the crowd."
"Go on…"
"I saw Bill Hoskins and John Martin in the crowd of observers."
Joe froze. His heart pounded in his ears. Hoskins and Martin were two of Horton's associates and had been drummed out along with his brother-in-law. If they were there… then James might be there as well. What was he up to? He'd promised to remain away from immortals… especially MacLeod. Joe slowly rubbed a finger across his forehead where a tension headache was definitely making its presence known to him. He might need to contact James to verify what he was doing. Joe had put his career on the line in asking that James not be killed. He could still hear Lynn's passionate weeping on the subject. She was angry with her father. She hated him for having killed Robert… but he was still her father. Joe had stood before the tribunal and assured them that James Horton would go quietly into retirement. If he hadn't… then Joe might need to take care of it… personally.
"It could be a coincidence," he said with a shrug. He didn't believe it… and looking into Greta's fearful gaze, he knew that she didn't believe it either. "Still… I'll look into it."
Greta nodded. "Is there anything I can do? I could go to San Francisco for you… or do some research."
"Thanks," Joe replied. "I have someone currently on MacLeod and I don't think we need anyone else in research at present. If something comes up about Diana Hamilton though, I'll let you know."
"So I'm to be reassigned?"
Joe nodded reluctantly and handed her a folder. "It'll take you a few days to get up to speed on her. Her current watcher has asked to retire by the end of the year. It was the truth… and it was the assignment he'd have given her anyway had Duncan MacLeod not wanted to look into the matter. The only lie was that there was no one currently on MacLeod. Not in San Francisco. Joe knew that he was taking a big chance by not assigning a temporary Watcher while MacLeod was out of town… but if was ever to gain MacLeod's trust… he needed to show that he trusted him.
Greta briefly examined the file, grunted her assent of the assignment and rose. She still seemed reluctant… as if moving on to a new assignment was the final realization that Diana Hamilton was dead. Pausing with one hand on the doorknob she glanced back at Joe. "If something does come up… anything… I still want to know."
Joe nodded, and hoped he could tell her something. He knew what it was like to lose an immortal to the game. He still felt badly that his first assignment Roy Ferrer had lost a challenge and died. He'd felt so helpless standing there and just watching it happen. When he'd moved on to MacLeod though, he'd realized that moving on quickly was for the best… even if they'd given him an assignment whose stable life did not seem to allow for the game. "I promise," he told Greta… hoping he couldn't tell that he wasn't being quite truthful.
She nodded reluctantly and left.
Joe sat for some time staring at the spines of the books on the floor-to-ceiling bookcases of the office. Horton had amassed quite a few chronicles in his personal collection… a collection that was now at Joe Dawson's disposal. Maybe he should begin going through them to find answers about what had happened to James… and what sort of resources he might still have. God help them all if he'd managed to copy everything before his dismissal.
With a snort of exasperation, the Watcher rose awkwardly, leaned on his cane and then shuffled over to the bookcases. He might as well get started.
-----
By mid-morning, Garrett Sunderson was passed out snoring in the recliner while Duncan and Diana continued to talk quietly about the situation. Outside, the day was sunny and bright although cool, even for this time of year.
"He's going to be a problem," Duncan murmured and indicated the snoring Garrett.
Diana looked at the reporter over her shoulder and nodded. "That's why I was afraid to just leave him."
"We have to be certain that the Hunters don't connect him with you… and… make certain the immortal who might be after you doesn't find him either. Either way… he'd be dead."
"Any suggestions?" she asked as she sipped the lukewarm coffee and grimaced. She'd drunk too much of it overnight and it seemed bitter this morning. It even felt as if it was gritting against her teeth. She set the cup down with an audible sigh. "He's too much in the public eye to just vanish, though."
Duncan shook his head. "The main thing is to get you out of town without anyone becoming the wiser that you're still alive. I don't even want to know where you're going… not for a while. That way you can hide and rebuild a life." He started suddenly. "Did you hear that?"
Diana shook her head. She'd heard nothing, but in the silence of the moment she thought she did hear someone outside the bungalow.
With that last soft brush of something along the exterior wall, Duncan rose quietly and eased toward the door. He motioned Diana to move back and get down behind the counter.
She did so with a pointed glance at her teacher. She wasn't some helpless female. He looked at her more forcefully as if to say, "Just do it." She crouched behind the counter… knife in hand… in case she was needed. He was right… if it were nothing… then she shouldn't be seen… not yet.
Duncan adjusted his stance so that he could just see through the blinds covering the window next to the door and make out the figure trying to look through the blinds. Damn! Evidently someone's already looking into Sunderson and his possible connection to Diana! Duncan motioned to Diana to stay down and remain quiet. He clasped the doorknob, took a deep cleansing breath and yanked the door open.
The man outside started in surprise even as Duncan hauled him in and slammed the door. He pushed the man against the wall.
"Who are you? What do you want?" he barked even as he realized that it was the same man who had been hanging around Diana's office yesterday.
"N—no one," the man stuttered.
"Really?" Duncan persisted and snatched at the man's wrist. "Looks like a Watcher tattoo to me."
The man paled and then crunched his teeth together. For a moment Duncan got the telltale aroma of bitter almonds. The man's eyes rolled up and he slumped in the Highlander's hands. "Dammit!" Duncan muttered as he eased the man to the floor. "It doesn't have to be this way." He was going through the man's pockets when a startled Sunderson yawped as he woke up.
Diana eased forward, the knife still in her hands. "This is a Watcher?"
Duncan showed her the man's wrist. "He must have been one of Horton's people. They seem to have the suicide instructions if confronted."
"What happened?" Sunderson asked as he sat up. He glanced at the body and paled. "This isn't good… is it?" He reached for the phone.
Diana crossed to him swiftly and pulled it from his hands.
"What are you doing, Di?" Sunderson gasped. "We have to report this!"
Diana glanced back at Duncan who nodded. "We will Garrett… but give us a chance to find out who he was and why he was here."
"How did he die?" Sunderson was now on his feet, and more interested in the body than the phone. Diana sighed thankfully and replaced it in its cradle. Nervously she tapped the handset and then reached down to pull the connection loose… purely as a delay tactic. There was an extension in the bedroom… but she thought that was all. She backed away to disable it as well.
Duncan meanwhile was going through the man's wallet. "Says here his name is William S. Hopkins and that he's a freelance writer." He held up a business card between two fingers.
"A writer? Jesus he was just likely here to interview me!" Sunderson shouted. "Now you've killed him!"
Duncan rose so that his face and Sunderson's were only inches apart. "I didn't kill him. He killed himself when I asked him why he was here."
"Oh," Sunderson replied quietly. He glanced down. "Wild tattoo."
Duncan nodded. "That's one these men who want to kill us use to identify one another. They were members of another group that only wants to study us."
"So he wasn't here to interview me?" Sunderson sounded almost disappointed.
By that time, Diana had returned from the bedroom. "There's another one creeping around the back."
Duncan growled slightly. He seemed ready to attack.
Sunderson clasped his arm. "Let me. I'm not one of you guys. I can just step outside… manage to see him… talk to him… whatever."
Duncan looked at him thoughtfully and then at Diana's nod. Perhaps it would work. He put his hand on the knob and a finger to his lips. "Not a word about me or Diana."
"Scout's honor," beamed Sunderson.
Diana rolled her eyes. He was evidently once more in secret agent mode. She shook her head. "Garrett… just don't get cute. You don't know me… you don't know anything… remember?"
Garrett winked as he laughed, "Gotcha." Then he slowly sauntered out of the door.
Duncan closed it behind him and watched through the blinds as Sunderson stretched as if getting ready to run. In mid-stretch he looked up and called out to the other man. Slowly he trotted over to him. Duncan wished he could hear what they were saying. Diana leaned in beside him to watch.
"He's certainly got courage."
"It could get him killed," Duncan warned.
"I know," she replied as she offered him a weak smile. It was a calculated risk they were taking. Each of them hoped that it worked.
-----
A few moments later they could hear voices as Garrett and the other man headed toward the door. The tone of their voices was chatty. Duncan motioned Diana to drag the body out of sight as he waited beside the door. She grabbed Hoskins' hands and pulled him behind the counter where she crouched once more.
"Yeah sure," Garrett was saying as he opened the door. "You can use the phone. Brother… do I know what it's like to have car problems." He stomped his feet at the door as he entered and moved aside, turning to motion the other man in.
"Thanks, buddy," the man said as he entered the dim bungalow. "I really do appreciate this." Duncan slammed the door shut and swiftly rammed a fist into the man's face. Blood spurted. He hit him again. Unconscious, the man slumped into Sunderson's arms.
"Tattoo?" Sunderson asked.
Duncan held up a wrist to show him. Then he pried open the man's mouth looking for a capsule. He saw nothing. After running a finger around the man's mouth, Duncan shrugged. "Get something to tie him up. He rummaged through the man's pockets and found his wallet. "John David Martin." Noting that the man was beginning to come around, Duncan caught the extension cord that Diana tossed him and secured the man's hands behind him. He grasped the Martin's jaw. "We're not gonna have any trouble out of you… are we?"
Martin's eyes widened in fear. He nodded.
"Good. Do you know who I am?"
Martin looked around seeing only Sunderson. "Duncan MacLeod."
"You know I don't kill people… right?"
Martin stared at him and then nodded reluctantly.
"You and your friend were misled. He killed himself."
Martin stared, breathing raggedly as blood dripped from his swollen and bloody nose. It was likely broken. Duncan accepted a handkerchief from Sunderson and pressed it gently to Martin's nose. "I don't want to see anyone else die. Now then… why are you here?"
"We were investigating Diana Hamilton's death. Our superiors thought there was something suspicious about it." He tried to look at Sunderson.
Duncan grunted. "She's dead. Sometimes accidents happen."
Martin avoided the Highlander's piercing glance. "Now why are you here?"
Martin shrugged. "Just checking things out. She was chummy with Sunderson before her death, and yesterday you were seen talking to him."
"Chummy?" Sunderson guffawed. "Yeah… a drink at the juice bar of the club and a few workouts. "Next you'll be saying I've got her stashed in my bed!"
Duncan gave him a pained glance. Sunderson shut up. "Now then Mr. Martin. Why did your friend commit suicide?"
Martin shrugged. "I don't know. He believed we shouldn't reveal anything."
"But you're wiser than that."
Martin shrugged. "I have a wife… a family. I don't want to die if I can help it." The bleeding seemed to have stopped. Duncan refolded the handkerchief and gently wiped off some of the blood. "I've already lost my job…" He stopped, aware that he was offering information when Duncan paused in thought at Martin's words.
"But you still believe we're freaks and should be killed."
"I… I don't know anymore. It made sense at the time… but I don't know. We ran her off the road. We shot her… at least Bill did… I did the driving. But now… I don't know."
"Who gave the orders?" Duncan asked.
Martin shook his head. "No orders. We knew about her. Bill had this idea that we could still get rid of some of you."
Duncan chuckled. "Now why don't I believe that?"
"No really. Bill was really into this. I just sorta went along for the ride."
Duncan leaned closely to him. "And right now you'd say anything to survive."
Martin stared back at the Highlander for a long moment and then nodded. "I want to live."
"And so do I," Duncan replied. "So did Diana. So did Darius." The last was said with a dark undertone. "He didn't deserve to die… not that way."
"I wasn't there."
One of Duncan's hands balled into a fist. He seemed to count to four and then slowly released it. Beating Martin to a pulp would make him feel better… but it wouldn't help the situation. "Of course you weren't," he said and tapped Martin's cheeks. He sat back and considered what to do next. He could just see Diana peeking quietly around the edge of the counter. If Martin should see her… her chances of finding a new life without the hunters after her would be lost.
That seemed to decide it for him. Duncan sat up abruptly, pulled Martin to his feet and manhandled him to the door. "If you want to live… leave here and don't look back." He turned Martin around, removed the cord from about his wrists and pushed him out the door.
As he slammed it shut, Diana rose. "Is that wise? He'll come back."
"He'll have to leave to get some help. Sunderson… do you have a car?"
"Yeah," Garrett mumbled. "Why?"
"It's about to be stolen. Diana, take the rental car and go. I'll lead them off with Sunderson's car. You can leave me a message about where to pick up the rental when you ditch it and I'll take care of it. Sunderson… I'll get your car back to you. But you have to remain mum that Diana is alive or that you know anything about us."
"Duncan that won't work… not now," Diana said. "If these people are as bad as you say, Martin will tell them that Garrett saw us… saw you… and was working with you. Once they go to work on him… it won't be pretty. Besides… there's Hoskins' body." She inclined her head toward the kitchen counter.
"At any rate… we need to get out of here… now," Duncan said resignedly. He looked at Garrett. "You too. Go with Diana in my car."
"Why me?"
"Because you know us. They know you know us. They won't take 'I don't know' for an answer."
Garrett suddenly seemed to understand. His comfortable life in San Francisco and his time as a minor media darling was apparently over. People's lives were at stake. It was time to think of someone besides himself. "And the body?"
Duncan grabbed a rag and began wiping prints off of Hoskins' wallet and body. "We'll have to leave it."
"But the cops will think I killed him!"
Duncan nodded soberly. "They might…if they find it. If the Hunters are organized… they likely will take care of it. But we do need to make it look like you were abducted in case the cops do get here first. You'll need to leave a large quantity of blood somewhere in the house… like… say… your bed?"
Sunderson paled. "How much blood?"
Duncan smiled. "Enough to make it look serious."
"I suppose this means I can't get any money out of my accounts?"
Duncan smiled at Diana. "I think he's catching on. Look Sunderson… I'm trying to save your life."
"And you've thought this through?"
Duncan chuckled. "Actually… I'm making this up as I go along. A hundred years ago this was a lot easier… one of us could have left blood and no one would be the wiser. But modern forensics and technology can be a real problem for immortals. Let's take this one step at a time. We set the house, Diana and I make certain we leave no trace of our presence behind, and we all get out of here… pronto. I have a feeling that Martin will be calling for backup. He didn't see Diana… but if we don't hurry… it won't matter."
"Is that so important, Duncan. Why not face these people?" She helped wipe down surfaces and washed their dishes. Other than her trip to the bedroom earlier to pull the plug on the phone… they hadn't been anywhere else in the house since Duncan had arrived. Garrett's sparse furnishings worked in their favor.
"We can't. A confrontation might lead to others learning about us… and about them." Duncan motioned for Garret's palm. "It'll bleed easily and heal quickly." Deftly he made a cut and began to smear blood about the bedroom. Garrett didn't look happy.
As Duncan set the scene and smeared the blood, Diana bandaged Garrett's hand. Once Duncan was satisfied with the way things looked, he motioned for the others to leave. His car was parked up on the main road and he wanted to be certain they had ample time to get out of here. "If you're seen before you reach the car, get back here. I'll have Sunderson's ready to go and we'll think of something else."
Diana nodded, kissed her teacher on one cheek with a small "thank you" and then she and Garrett stepped outside and swiftly made their way to the rental car, parked up on the highway. After they'd reached the car and climbed in, Diana behind the wheel, Garrett mumbled something about Duncan under his breath.
"What did you say?" asked Diana as she started the ignition and pulled out.
"Nothing. Does it matter?" Garrett was cradling his wounded hand.
"It matters to me. Look Garrett. I didn't want you involved in any of this. I shouldn't have told you anything… but I didn't want anything to happen to you. Those men would have come after you anyway… even if I'd not come back… even if Duncan hadn't followed you. They wouldn't have been so nice to you as he was."
Garrett snorted. "Yeah… he's a regular Boy Scout." When Diana laughed merrily he looked at her strangely. "And what does that mean?"
Getting her laughter under control as she drove away, Diana finally replied, "Oh… he's been called that before."
Garrett said nothing; choosing instead to stare morosely out the window as the scenery passed. After some time he sat back and dared to ask, "So… you and MacLeod… you two an item?"
Diana shook her head with a smile. "He was my teacher. I told you that… and my friend. We were never intimately involved. The timing was never right."
"And he's really over four hundred years old?"
"He really is," she replied. So far she'd not seen a car following them. She kept eyeing traffic in the mirrors as they eased onto a highway. Inwardly she prayed that Duncan would also make a clean getaway. She hit the accelerator until they were cruising easily in traffic.
-----
"Dammit!" shouted James Horton as he slammed the phone down. "Those two idiots have been busted and one is dead!"
"Good help is so hard to find these days," Xavier said smoothly.
Horton glared at him. He seemed to seethe with loathing and his fingers itched to pick up a gun… blow St. Cloud's head off… and then behead him properly. But not now… now he needed him.
"One does the best one can," he replied archly. "Which is why you, my friend, are so important. Only you can take care of MacLeod." Horton smiled. It didn't matter which man won the fight. The quickening would take the winner… and while he was still recovering… Horton would put an end to another monstrosity. He smiled. "I need to see about this mess. Coming?"
"I thought I'd work out a bit unless you think MacLeod will be there?" Xavier was all silk and manners today. Even lounging about this morning, he was still impeccably dressed and his voice seldom rose above that of polite conversation. For some reason, Horton wondered if this "thing" thought he was in charge.
"Yes… practice. You need to practice. You're still awkward in a fight. We'll have to do something about that." He smiled pleasantly as he inwardly laughed at that last little dig.
For a moment Xavier's eyes glittered in anger. Then he too smiled as he rose. "Yes… the more I fight… the better I get. It's likely time for another sacrifice. If you find the woman… let me know… I think I'll enjoy taking her head." He bowed his head politely, pivoted sharply and sauntered out of the room.
"One day very soon, my friend," Horton murmured to himself, "you will no longer be of use. I hope I get to rid the world of you when the time comes."
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