Date: Fri, 10 Nov 1995 00:28:04 EST Reply-To: Russ McMillan Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Russ McMillan Subject: Adam, Part 9/11? The next installment or set of installments (I'm guessing two) will be the climax and end of the story. I won't send them out until they're finished. Not much longer to wait, for those of you who collect all the parts first. Avoid the holiday rush and let me know now if you're missing any parts. Adam, Part 9 by Russet McMillan mcmillan@astro.psu.edu Joe looked up alertly as the door to the bar swung open, then relaxed when he saw who had arrived. "Hey, Nick. How's it going? Did you come by for a game of poker?" He nodded toward the cluster of Watchers around a table in the corner, just at the edge of the slanting afternoon rays. Nick wrinkled his nose. "Naw. Odd jobs after school doesn't exactly give me much money to gamble with, even at tame stakes. Besides --" he grinned "-- I'm s'posed to be saving for college. But how come you're not playing, Uncle Joe?" Joe shrugged, more with his chin than his shoulders. "I'm not exactly in the mood for games. Besides -- I'm s'posed to be working." He waved at the ledger in front of him. "And you're expecting someone." "What makes you say that?" Nick looked at his uncle over the rim of his sunglasses. "Maybe the way you looked up when I came in." Joe smiled, but a burst of laughter from the corner table precluded any reply. He flipped down the cane that was hanging from his elbow and bent over to get a soda from the refrigerator under the bar. "So, am I right?" Nick asked, watching the Coke fizzle over ice cubes. "Right about what?" "Are you expecting someone?" "Well, I might get a visitor," Joe conceded. "Or maybe not. maybe she didn't get my message." The door opened again. "Then again, maybe she did," Nick commented, watching the handsome, middle-aged woman who entered the bar. "Enjoy yourself." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and wandered over to observe the poker game. Joe shook his head after his nephew and smiled at the woman who had come in. "Hannah, I'm glad you could make it. You're not too busy right now?" He grabbed a couple of glasses. The woman slid onto a bar stool and shook her head. "Not busy at all. In fact, I'm going to be requesting reassignment." Joe froze as he was reaching for a bottle. "Richie--?" "Out of commission." She drew an index finger across her throat and made a whisking noise. "That's -- too bad." With an effort, Joe kept his hand steady as he poured two glasses of beer. "Are you sure?" "Not completely." She took a sip of the beer, then a deeper draught, as Joe waited anxiously. "Ah. That's good. No, I can't be sure, because there was no quickening." Joe swallowed. "Mortals?" "Yeah, Alan Guise and his group. They were headed up this way." "You _knew_ that? Why didn't you report it?" She lifted her brows. "I did." "I never heard anything about it." "Maybe they didn't think you had a need to know." Joe's eyes narrowed. "Guise was coming after _me_." "What?" "Yeah, they nearly killed me! Damn right I had a need to know! Anyway, I should have heard about this trouble as soon as the word went up. Why didn't they tell me?" Hannah glanced down the bar, not meeting his gaze. "So, is it over now? You safe?" "Yeah," Joe rasped. "Alan's boat blew up with the whole gang on board." He set his glass down untasted. "Sabotage?" "No." Joe took a breath. "A quickening." Her eyes widened. "Whose?" "Macleod's." She whistled, causing heads to turn from the corner table. "Who took his head?" Joe glanced at the others in the bar. "Why don't you come to my office?" She followed on his heels, full of curiosity. "So who finally got Macleod? I thought you were banking on him to be The One." "It was a new guy," Joe replied, ignoring her comment. "Calls himself Adam Pierson." She laughed as she settled onto the couch. "You're kidding. Adam Pierson's a Watcher!" "Same guy." "This has to be a joke. Or a mistake, or something. Isn't he in France, anyway?" "Not anymore. And it's no mistake. I saw him heal a knife wound with my own eyes. He's an Immortal, and a lying son of a bitch." "My God." She sat back on the couch, stunned. "But he knows all about us!" "Yep. He _used_ Guise and his hunters to track down Macleod, me . . . and Richie." Hannah digested this. "You mean, he was there when they killed Richie?" "Apparently. Guise said Adam took Richie's head himself." "That's impossible. I told you, there was no quickening." "Right. Well, that's why I asked if you're sure Richie's dead." She shook her head. "I didn't have a chance to see for myself, but whether or not he still has his head, he's definitely out of it for a while. The next few years or decades, I would guess." She pursed her lips. "Yeah, I'm still going to need reassignment." Joe frowned, deciphering the implications. "They buried him." He leaned forward. "Where?" Hannah studied his face. "Why do you need to know?" "So I can find him!" "Joe." Her voice was gentle, as if she were reasoning with a crazy man. "You can't interfere." "This isn't interfering in the Game, Hannah. I'm trying to undo the work of a pack of mortal hunters!" "You said yourself there was an Immortal using them." Joe ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. But we don't even know if Richie's really dead or not. What kind of recording is that?" Hannah glared. "The kind I was trained to do." "All I mean is, we should find out the real truth. For history's sake, if nothing else." "Joe, you know he'll be dug up eventually, if he's alive." "Yeah, in a few centuries, maybe!" "All we have to do is keep an eye on -- where he's buried. It won't be that hard." "Hannah." Joe grasped her hands between his. "I'm asking you. Just tell me where he is." "Why?" she asked again. "All right. Because he's my friend. I admit it! I need to know if he's alive, and if he is I'm going to get him out of there. I need to tell him Macleod's dead. I can't just leave him there." Hannah was shaking her head. She pulled her hands away and stood up, pacing the narrow office. "You can't do this, Joe. You're getting involved with them. Don't do it. Just back away. Macleod's gone now, you can forget all this crazy stuff you've been getting into." "But Richie still needs me." "Dammit, Joe!" Hannah whirled to glare at him. "Why do you think the chiefs didn't tell you Guise was on his way? You should have been notified routinely, but you're out of the loop now. Nobody trusts you anymore!" Joe gaped at her. "Do you know who gave me the Ryan assignment? Ian Bancroft. He told me to watch out for you, said you were getting too involved. I couldn't believe him, at first." "Ian's gone, Hannah," Joe rasped. "That's right. He was murdered -- by a Watcher who made friends with an Immortal!" She shook her head at him. "I can't believe you really expect me to give you information so you can go interfere with Immortals some more. I won't do it, Joe. I won't break the rules for you, so just give up." She headed for the door of the office. "The chiefs are going to hear about this, Joe. I'm telling them you can't be trusted anymore." Left alone in his office, Joe leaned his head back against the wall and tasted the bitterness of failure. A short rap on the door was followed by Nick's head peering in. "Uncle Joe?" "Yeah?" Joe scrubbed a hand over his face and sat up. Nick entered the office. "Visit didn't go so well, huh?" Joe forced out a chuckle. "You could say that." "Did she tell you what you need to know?" "No." Joe stared down at his desk. "She may have been right, too." "Oh. Does that mean I would get in trouble for using -- unorthodox methods?" Nick propped one hip against the corner of the desk. Joe frowned. "What do you mean?" "Well --" Nick hunched his shoulders sheepishly "-- she left her purse on the bar when you brought her in here." Joe stared at his nephew for a long moment. "There's no way you could have gotten to her reports in that short time. They must have been protected by at least three passwords." "Yeah, and the computer's in here." Nick waved a hand at the laptop on Joe's desk. "But her field notes were in a little book inside her purse." Joe's heart sped up. "You saw them?" "I had time to look at the last entry. It's the same code you use, Uncle Joe. I understood most of it." Joe shoved a pad of paper across the desk. "Write it down -- now, before you forget." He levered himself to his feet, too excited to sit still. "No one saw you?" "Nope." "You're sure." Nick laughed. "I'm sure, Uncle Joe!" Privately, Joe still doubted. There had been five other Watchers in the bar, all trained to observe unobtrusively. Nick would probably be in as much trouble as his uncle, when word of this got out. But for now -- Joe looked over Nick's shoulder at what he was writing. For now, the boy was a godsend. In another office across town, sitting in front of a different computer, Methos hissed a frustrated sigh. "Well, they've changed a lot of the passwords. I didn't get very far. But I did manage to access the Watcher location records. There are no Watchers in Hadleyville right now. You should be safe going there." Duncan frowned. "What about Richie's Watcher? If he's not there, Richie isn't there." Methos licked his lips nervously. "_She_ has requested reassignment." He folded the computer closed. "What does that mean?" "It means she thinks Richie is dead. But remember, Guise and his men thought so, too. I went to a lot of effort to make them think just that. She could have been fooled just as easily." "Perhaps." Duncan looked grim. "This is not good, though. Not good." "No. I can't access her records, and Joe is spreading the word that I'm Immortal, so I can't just go up to some other Watcher and ask. That's going to make it a lot harder to find out where Richie is." "I thought you had some ideas on that," Duncan objected. "Here, I went out and bought a map of Hadleyville." "Well." Methos craned over the map as it unfolded across the desk. "I didn't have much time to observe Guise's operations in Hadleyville, but from what I saw there are two places we should check first. One is the offices of the old sawmill, here." He stabbed one finger at the map. "That's where Guise took Richie to -- question him." "That's where you saw him last?" "Yes. He wouldn't have had any trouble getting away from where I left him, though, so they may have taken him somewhere else." "Where?" "The only other place I saw was where they dumped Richie's bike. That was right after they caught him, before we actually got into Hadleyville. It's out of town, somewhere in this direction." Methos waved beyond the northeastern corner of the map. "I think I can find it again, if I get on the right road. It may take a while, though." "Let's split up, then. You try to remember your way around the back roads, and I'll check out the area near the sawmill." "I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Methos said uneasily. "We can search twice as fast that way." "There's no call for speed. Whether Richie's alive or dead, it won't make much difference how soon we find him." Duncan closed his eyes. "Have you ever been buried, Methos?" The older Immortal swallowed. "A few times. You?" "Only twice. Not for long, either time." Duncan opened his eyes and fixed Methos with a determined look. "It's not going to be long for Richie, either." =========================================================================