Disclaimer: Highlander belongs to Davis/Panzer. They are being borrowed and returned hopefully in about the same shape they were taken in. Jeff, Emmy, and just about everyone else, belong to me. You can use them if you like, just return them please.

Chapter 14

Emmy smiled at Rick as they sat down at the table across from Mr. Chase and Mr. Arnold's. Rick casually fastened a microphone and recorder under their table. It would pick up the two men's conversation as well as his and Emmy's, but they would be able to listen later and sift through all of the different voices to pinpoint the ones they wanted to hear.

"How was your day?" Emmy asked after the waiter had taken their order.

"Same as always. I live a very boring life." Rick said and winked.

"Me too. We just don't seem to get any action in this town," she replied, and laughed lightly.

"It's because it is such a nice quiet town. No bad guys here." He smiled to himself as he thought back to the beginning of his time in Ft. Myers. That had been a very different time indeed.

Ft. Myers April 2006:

Rick walked jauntily into the alleyway and casually to the side where he would be difficult to see. He watched the entrance. As he hoped, the young man he had spotted following him soon paused at the point where sidewalk met alley entrance, looking both directions in a casual manner meant to imply that he was deciding which way he wanted to go. He started walking down the alleyway. Rick slipped up silently behind him, grabbing him and covering his mouth. He felt the man brace himself for a fight and spoke quietly into his ear, "Don't freak out, I'm just checking something." He pulled up the man's left cuff. There was the Watcher tattoo, and another symbol, one he did not recognize, touching it just higher on the wrist. Rick smirked and let him go. "So, you're my Watcher."

The other man spun to face him, looking indignant. "You could have just asked."

"You wouldn't have told me the truth. You're trained to guard that secret with your life." Rick shrugged. "I didn't want you to be replaced."

"I wouldn't have run! So far as we know, you're a good guy!" He was clearly struggling with a mix of embarrassment and tremendous curiosity. Suddenly he blurted, "Some of us take an oath to help those who fight evil and want to protect the human race." He pulled up his sleeve to reveal the other symbol again, tapping it with his finger and giving Rick an earnest stare. "That's what this means. It means I'm a special part of the Watchers. We don't just observe and record, we interfere, for the good of humanity."

Rick blinked, amused and trying to hold back a grin. "What's your name, kid?"

"I'm Jeff Read, and I'm excited to finally get to talk to you, Rick Cloud."

Rick offered his hand, "It's good to meet you, too." The two shook hands, then Rick continued, "Now I need your help."

"You want to clean up the streets here and around this area, don't you?" Jeff asked with a grin.

"Yes, I do. It's time someone put a couple of these guys in their place. I'm here, so it might as well be me."

Emmy touched Rick's sleeve pulling him out of his thoughts. "Hey, what's on your mind? You seem distracted today. Kind of distant."

Rick smiled. "I was actually thinking about how I met Jeff. He has balls, that one. Right from the start there was no rattling him. He doesn't look like it, but he had a tough childhood. He can take out most guys who try him. So long as they're not heavyweights."

"So, how did you meet?" Emmy asked.

"I figured out he was following me, then the Watcher became the watched. I'd dodge around corners quickly, then cut back and see what he would do. Or I'd go somewhere, where he would have to come out into the open anyway, and look for a tape recorder. Finally, when I was sure he was a Watcher; I grabbed him. I checked for the tattoo, and then let him go so I could convince him to work with me."

"Wait, that's something you haven't mentioned before. Watchers have tattoos?" Emmy asked, curious now.

"Yeah, I'm sure you've seen it. It's the symbol on his wrist, the circle with the dots and what looks kind of like a Y in the middle of it. All Watchers have that same tattoo. It's their way of declaring they've taken an oath. To observe and record, but never interfere."

"But Jeff does interfere, doesn't he? I mean that's what he's doing with us, isn't it?" It looked to Rick as though Emmy had all but forgotten about dinner and their assignment to figure out what was going on with Mr. Chase. She was much more interested in Watchers. Rick did not blame her; he had been the same way.

"Why don't we talk more about this later? I can explain everything to you. It's a lot to take in all at once. Kind of like us." Rick smiled again, and started eating his dinner.

Emmy nodded and the two began to eat silently for a couple of minutes, both paying attention to the conversation that was passing back and forth between the couple at the other table. After a while, Emmy gave Rick a pointed look and began a new line of questioning. "So, a while back you told me you've been riding bikes since you were sixteen. What's kept your interest in them for so long?"

Rick grinned. He could tell Emmy was playing with the conversation to make sure the men at the other table did not start to wonder about this quiet couple. He could appreciate her methods. He began to tell her about his troubled youth, how motorcycles had been a form of expression for him, and eventually had become a way of life.

Stories like these bounced back and forth between them. Lighthearted and silly conversation with long silences—the way you would expect on a first or second date. The two played into their characters until the meal was done.

They left about ten minutes after Mr. Chase and Mr. Arnold, for they did not need to follow them. As they got to Rick's car, he noticed that Emmy had a wicked smile on her face. "What's on your mind?" he asked, politely opening the passenger door for her.

She got into the car, and he shut the door. Once he settled himself in the driver's seat, she asked, "How long have you been listening in on these conversations?"

"This is only the third time. The first two weeks were a lot of technical jargon that we didn't understand. Why? What did you get out of this session that I missed?"

"Mr. Chase has a daughter."

"What?" Rick asked, turning his head to stare at her. "Then he was having an affair."

"No, she was born long before he married. It sounds like she was a high school mistake, and that the mother never told him about her. From what I can tell, the girl sought her father out. Now Mr. Chase wants to add her to his will, and he'd also like to tell Mrs. Chase about her. The problem is, he doesn't know how."

Rick gaped at her. "You're positive that's what they were talking about?"

Emmy nodded. "They suspect you or someone else is spying on them in the restaurant, so they are speaking in a sort of code. Not a real code; they just change some words. People do it all the time when they are planning to move valuables. They talk about chess pieces, books, or something else innocuous to cover what it is they are really doing. That way they can try to throw off anyone who might be listening in. A really good thief figures out what's truth, lies, and misleads. That's all. It seems Mr. Chase is on to his wife's snooping."

"How do you know all of this?" Rick asked, shaking his head in amazement.

"Two reasons. One, as I've stated before, for most of my lifetime, six hundred years, I've been a professional thief. You can't be a thief that long and not know the tricks of the trade. The second reason is wills. Often in the 1800s in England, but especially in America where property laws weren't as final, the heirs would want to steal the wills. They would have them changed or simply check them to make sure they got what they felt they deserved, and then have them returned to their rightful place. Another way to do it was having someone who would not be recognized sit close by during a will writing session. These people would then be able to tell the heirs what was said. Often, the writers would use code to throw the snoops off." Emmy shrugged. "I was involved in that market for a time. It could be extremely lucrative."

"So this code, they've been using it for centuries?"

Emmy shook her head. "No, it's not quite like that. There isn't an official code. What happens is the two individuals have set words within their business that they change to throw off the listener. Either the talking that they are doing sounds boring and formal, or like you put it: like technical jargon. Document could mean the person in question. Directive could point towards a certain time and so forth. In so speaking, they can hide the true nature of their conversation while still meeting in public. This was done a lot in the forties, too, by the mob. They would use code to talk about their business dealings. Often they would use weather as their code form."

"Just like in Breakfast at Tiffany's," Rick said, nodding. "So, you understand their code?"

"No, I got parts of it. I want to listen to the tapes. I need to identify key words. Then maybe I can piece together the rest of it."

"Let's get back to the office then," Rick said, and started the car, moving into traffic.