Chapter Eighteen

The Jewel Thief

Author's note (3/22/2006): I have also slightly rewritten and replaced chapter 11. While it makes no changes to the plot of this story, I've made it somewhat more historically plausible. Planes were not used to transport supplies in WWI, neither did women fly them. I believe that when I originally wrote it, I was leaning more on my knowledge of WWII. While I still think chapter 11 is a little bit of a stretch, it is now less absurd.

Rose, sulking alone in her hotel room, finished off a fifth glass of wine. Jack never came back that day. Rose returned to her hotel alone that night and it was getting late. To think, she had been ready to run off with him all those years ago. Though his absence provided her with a chance to get to know the wise, kind priest, Darius, she was still burned by it.

She placed the empty glass back on her vanity table and began fiddling with pieces of jewelry and a hairbrush.

"I should get a job," she mused. "A regular job. A good, steady, decent job. I'm a hard…hard-working American," she raised her glass to her own reflection. She hadn't held a steady job since living in London with MacLeod. The vagrant life was growing old with Rose. "I need more wine."

The moment Rose got up to fetch herself more relief, she felt the distinctive presence of another immortal; the buzz made her even dizzier. She held her head and moaned.

"Jack?" she looked up, trying not to sound too eager. No answer. "…Jack, is that you?" She stumbled to find her bathrobe (she was only in her nightgown.) "…MacLeod?"

Still no answer.

Instinctively, Rose reached for her sword. "Who's there!" she demanded, trying to sound aggressive and praying the room would stop spinning.

A beautiful, dark-haired woman, dressed in black, entered through her open window. She wore pants and gloves and slung a small satchel over her back.

"Friend or foe?" Rose backed up, the other immortal's sword was peaking out of her satchel and she would not be able to get to it very quickly. Even if she did want her head, Rose would at least let her get prepared. Always a lady.

The woman, a little taller than Rose—who was quite tall herself—smiled at Rose.

"Oh, darling, I'm always a friend."

"Sneaking around like that…you can't be everybody's friend."

"Well, a girl has to make a living," the immortal laughed, "You can put it down. I'm not interested in your pretty little head."

Rose lowered her sword, feeling like a child.

"You sure? …I think it'll be bothering me quite a bit in the morning."

The immortal had already made herself at home and had filled up a glass of a water in Rose's bathroom.

"I'm Amanda."

"I'm Rose. What are you doing in my room?" she demanded and promptly stumbled over her shoes which she had disregarded earlier.

"Why don't you drink some of this?" Amanda held out the glass of water. "You'll thank me in the morning." Rose accepted the water, but gave the new immortal a distinct look of suspicion. "Oh, don't you worry. I don't bite." Amanda guided Rose back to her chair.

"If you don't want my head, are you here to take my things then?"

"Why would I do that? I'm an old friend of Duncan's. He thought someone should check up on you. He sent me up."

"You cer-certainly took somebody else's things…" she gestured lazily toward Amanda's satchel.

"No, no. …Pardon me, Rose, but I think that your little date tonight with Mr. Merlot 1906 might be the result of a little man trouble. If you ever need another woman to talk to…"

Rose slowly turned her head to look at the strange woman with the soothing voice.

"You broke into my room, you don't get to talk about my troubles," Rose hit her own chest with her thumb.

"Well, he seems like a very nice boy, if he weren't yours…I'd almost be tempted."

"Oh, he's not…" Rose started to laugh as she stood up—and fell back down into the chair. "How do you know…?"

Amanda stroked Rose's hair as Rose drifted off to sleep. After placing the girl on the bed and tucking her in, Amanda began searching the room.

"MacLeod should have taught you to be more alert," she told the sleeping Rose. "Where is it?" Amanda turned the room inside out, but to no avail. Amanda, feeling another immortal and hearing the footsteps coming down the hall, quickly began cleaning up. A knock came on the door.

"Rose?" said the voice of Duncan MacLeod. Amanda rushed to the door and opened it. "Amanda!" MacLeod almost couldn't believe his eyes—but with Amanda he was ready to believe anything.

"Surprised to see me, MacLeod?"

"Surprised to see you here."

"Well, I said I'd find you tonight and I did, didn't I, darling?" Amanda smiled seductively.

"By going through Rose's hotel room. Do you even know her?"

"I do now."

"Amanda!"

"Sshh, sshh, sshh," Amanda put her two fingers over Duncan's mouth, "you'll wake her."

"I'll wake her?" MacLeod ventured further into the room to find his protégé in a drunken stupor and some of her belongings scattered about the room. "Did you drug her?"

"Me? Why would you suspect me of such a thing?" She wrapped her arms around her friend and lover.

"Because I know you. What were you looking for?" he annunciated slowly.

"I would never hurt her, MacLeod, you know that." She raised her right hand.

"I know you wouldn't hurt her…" MacLeod embraced her.

"She was having some trouble today. Ran into Tommy Ryan's student…they've got a bit of a history…just girl to girl…helping her drown her sorrows…came as quite a shock…"

"He's one of us."

"He's one of us," Amanda repeated. Amanda smiled, believing she had won this one.

Duncan sharply pulled her from his embrace, putting them nose to nose from one another.

"What were you looking for?" he smiled sardonically.

"Nothing!"

"I don't believe you."

"MacLeod, when are you ever going to believe me?"

"When you start telling the truth."

"Fine," said Amanda, "fine." She walked to the other side of the room. "You know who she is!" she pointed to the young woman on the bed. "The DeWitt Bukaters were one of the richest and oldest families in America! I just wanted to check her inventory!" she shrugged.

"The family's ruined and she was a runaway!" MacLeod nearly yelled. He knew Amanda had to be lying now.

"Doesn't mean there isn't something. Besides, all the blackmail money couldn't have gone to Lovejoy."

MacLeod pulled her close and shushed her harshly. He gazed at his sleeping friend. He did not want her to hear it.

"She doesn't know, does she?"

"He couldn't have sucked the family dry all by himself and that doesn't mean he killed him," MacLeod whispered. "And no matter what's true, you won't be the one to tell her." Amanda stopped, looking worried and little hurt. "Come on," Duncan reached out his hand, "I'll buy you a drink and we'll talk."

He quietly led Amanda out of the room, turning off the lights, and moving Rose's heels over to the side so no one would trip over them. Amanda grabbed her sword and satchel, and took MacLeod by the arm. She still had not found what she was looking for…

The door closed behind them and Rose rolled over. Her eyes were now open. She flipped on her lamp.

She reached into the deep pocket of her nightgown and pulled out the Heart of the Ocean. At first she merely fiddled with the diamond in her hands, then she tossed up in the air and caught it. She shifted her gaze from one side of the room to the next without rising. She could not believe what she'd just heard.