Over the next half hour, Amanda listened as John and Cameron took turns describing to her what they knew of the future, and of the role the two of them were expected to play in the coming war. Occasionally, Amanda interrupted the narrative to ask for more details or clarification, but overall, she managed to listen to the whole story with very little in the way of hysteria. When John finished, he and Cameron looked at Amanda, surprised at her level of calm.
"What?" she asked. "I'm supposed to run out of the room screaming in horror and disbelief?"
"That's kind of the reaction we expected, yeah. I mean, it does sound kind of far-fetched, right?" John asked, confused.
"John. In this room are three people who can heal from any injury almost instantly. Two of us are more than 400 years old …"
"Some are even older," coughed Duncan under his breath.
"Shut up Macleod," Amanda said without pause, smacking his shoulder as she continued, "three of us constantly have random people trying to chop our heads off. And John, you're not the only one in this room who's had to live under the weight of some rather high expectations."
"Amanda," Duncan warned, shaking his head, the painful memories flashing through his eyes momentarily before his expression became shuttered.
Looking at Macleod, she continued. "I can see why you're so interested in training this one," she said sympathetically. "It's a chance to give someone the guidance you wish you'd had, isn't it?"
Turning back to those two, she said, "What you just told me might frighten normal people—but nobody here is really normal, are they?"
"For what it's worth, I don't really know that the future's ever completely set. But I'm not sure I like the idea of a nuclear holocaust, either. For one thing, I bet the food would be horrible," she said making a face. "You should let me know if you ever need any help. Duncan, show them my dead drops when you get a chance."
"Dead … what?" John asked.
Rolling his eyes, Duncan looked at Amanda. "Kids these days."
To John, he replied, "Back in the days before the Internet, and e-mail addresses, and cell phones, if you moved around a lot and wanted long-lost friends to be able to find you, you'd set up a dead drop—a secure, no-maintenance-required place where people could leave you messages. In Europe, you can usually open a Swiss bank account and let the bank handle it for you. Swiss banks will be here till the end of time," he said with a smirk.
"Here in the States, you build yourself a little secret compartment in a building that's important enough to be preserved, but not so important as to have high security or traffic," Duncan said. "I personally prefer small town historic churches. Two or three times a year, I make the rounds, checking all of them to see if anyone's looking for me. Obviously, security's important—you only tell people who you really trust where your dead drops are."
"I intend to play a role if this war comes to pass," Amanda said, no trace of her usual sass in her voice. "But I also intend to go have fun until Judgment Day comes. There are a lot of wonderful things to see and do in this world, John, and it seems to me that while it's important to prepare and fight today, you should really experience what it is you're fighting to save—just in case they disappear."
"But first," she announced, "I have property to retrieve, and I owe Cameron a proper, honest-to-goodness shopping trip!"
With a start, Duncan realized that he had been carrying stolen museum property in his trunk for nearly an entire day. "Wait, wait wait!" he cried, racing to get ahead of Amanda. "Not out in the open in broad daylight! At least let me move the car around back first!"
Dutifully, Amanda turned around and called, "I'll meet you there." She headed toward the back as Duncan wheeled the car around. John looked at Cameron, shrugged at her unspoken question, and followed Amanda back. "What the hell," he thought, "it's not like the rest of us aren't wanted felons, too." He had to admit a certain curiosity as to what Amanda had stolen—whatever it was clearly had some sentimental value to her.
As they opened the door to the back entrance to the studio, they found Duncan already there, carrying the statue wrapped in some blankets he had kept in the trunk. "Hurryup hurryup hurryup!" he chanted, rushing in, anxious to get out of the open.
"Duncan," laughed Amanda. "You're acting like you're the one who stole that!"
Rounding on her, he hissed, "So you ADMIT that this statue is stolen!" A light sheet of sweat shone on his brow. "Damn that thing is heavy," he said to no-one in particular.
"It would be stolen if you had taken it," Amanda corrected, indignation radiating from her body. She moved to help Duncan settle the statue correctly. "This is a statue of me," she announced. "And it's an original Rodin," she replied proudly.
"Rodin sculpted you?" Duncan asked incredulously. "I didn't know you'd known him!"
Amanda smiled softly. "He saw me as I was running down the street after a badger game gone wrong, and he said he'd let me hide out in his studio if I'd pose for him," she recalled wistfully as she began unwrapping the statue.
"What is a badger game?" Cameron asked.
"It's a con game," Duncan muttered. "An extortion scheme. Nevermind."
"Later, Auguste told me he'd decided to keep it and would leave it to me in his will. But by the time I got back to Paris to collect after he died …" Amanda shrugged. "Took me years to track it down. But I am the rightful owner, and I'd deserve it anyway," she insisted.
"Why you?" John asked.
"I guess he was a boob man," she said, smirking. "Ta da!" Amanda cried as she swept the coverings off the statue. John, Cameron and Amanda gathered around the front of the statue—a nude of an exultant, well-endowed woman in mid-leap, breasts thrust proudly forward.
Cameron frowned. "That is an inaccurate sculpture," she declared. "Proportionally speaking, the breasts on the sculpture are 23.4 percent larger than yours" she told Amanda.
"They are not!" Amanda cried, outraged.
"Yes they are," Cameron confirmed. John looked between the sculpture and the real thing, comparing them until Cameron looked at him. "There is no need for you to continue looking at Amanda's breasts," she told him. "My analysis is accurate."
John blushed, redfaced. Suddenly, Duncan, on the other side of the statue, began snickering, then laughing out loud.
"What??" Amanda demanded. "It's a beautiful sculpture!"
Duncan choked as he tried to control himself. "A boob man? Are you sure he wasn't an ass man, Amanda?" Tears were beginning to run out of his eyes.
"What? What do you mean?"
Duncan pointed, and as they went to the other side of the statue, they all saw it: a distinctly hand-shaped indentation on the right buttock of the statue.
"What the hell?" Amanda cried. "That wasn't there last week!" Beside her, John, too, began to snicker. Then it hit her in a flash. The frightened museum guard accidentally shooting Cameron. Cameron stepping back from the sheer impact …
then tightening her grip on the statue to keep from dropping it.
Amanda stalked over to Cameron grabbing her left hand and dragging it toward the statue. Fitting it to the imprint she saw a perfect match.
"God damnit!" she swore. "I've been trying to get this thing for nearly 100 years!" she wailed. "Now it's ruined."
"Cam," John chuckled. "I didn't know you liked asses so much!" Beside him, Duncan had given up trying to stay up right and was flat on his back, grasping his stomach as he continued to convulse in laughter.
"Grrr!!" Amanda growled as she stomped out of the room, as John's and Duncan's guffaws continued after her. "Not funny!" she yelled as she went upstairs.
A/N:
Just an epilogue left, which I'll post in a couple days. Then the story will continue in a currently unnamed sequel with a more serious plot. Thanks to all who've followed this and reviewed!
A badger game is a classic con game in which an attractive female lures a wealthy, married man into a sexually charged situation, and compromising photos of him are taken and used to blackmail him.