Date:         Wed, 17 Aug 1994 08:47:30 EDT
Reply-To:     Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU>
Sender:       Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU>
From:         "(Nancy Cleveland)" <NancySSCH@AOL.COM>
Subject:      Aloha Chapter 2 (p 31-36)

<How did he do that? And why?> Raven's escape had been so fast, so fluid,
Duncan hadn't really seen it. Hadn't seen it at all, in fact.  Neither had
the other two men, their hands grasping air, instead of solid cloth, muscle
and bone. But Raven was definitely out of the box, leaving Duncan right in
the middle. With a corpse, and some of the corpse's angry friends. <Damn him.
Did he have to kill the man? Is this how he deals with threats? By dealing
out death in his wake, wherever he goes? Maybe Kassmir is right. He's
dangerous. Out of control.>

*A true ninja.*

<Right. How about you show me that move, some time? And quit smirking. >

Duncan looked at the men around him, watching the baffled anger on their
faces, the grim purpose in their eyes, as they reached simultaneously for
shoulder holsters.  Two others had run from the security checkpoint and were
kneeling over the body of the gunman, hiding him from the passing crowd.

< Too late to back out now. Time to get in on this show. He's made his play,
I can at least support him, but I'm probably going to regret this... >  "What
the hell are you doing? This man is dead!" Duncan spoke loudly, pulling
attention from the passing travelers, who paused and stared at the strange
tableau, the fallen man, the blood. Horror came to some faces as they
registered what had happened, and pushed to get away, excitement and blood
lust illuminated others as they fought to get closer, to see every gory
detail. The crowd's smooth flow down the corridor was  blocked, setting up
swirls and eddies in the disembarkation path.

He had hoped to divide the four's attention from pursuing Raven, and it
worked. Two of them swung around and started after Raven, who had ducked down
and disappeared behind a motorized luggage trolley. Another two pairs of
agents had appeared in the crowd and were moving rapidly up the corridor,
trying to run through the  flow of passengers, struggling like salmon leaping
and swimming upstream. But the current was against them.

Raven was a briefly glimpsed shadow, darting across the wider main corridor,
towards what looked like an access door, and then Duncan had no more time to
watch his escape, except to hope, for whatever reasons the man had chosen to
run, that it would be successful.  He felt a brief flash of regret, that
Raven hadn't been willing to end things there.

<Was he afraid to die? Afraid of what they'd do to him? Or did he just use me
as his sacrificial pawn? Had he planned this all along?> The questions nagged
at Duncan, leaving him unsure of himself, unsure of his instinctive liking
for the man, that had moved him to get involved in the first place, back in
Hawaii. <Maybe I should have ignored him, ignored Kassmir, left when I had
the chance, left him to his fate..> He pushed that train of thought aside for
the moment. He had problems of his own right now. The other two men had
grabbed him, instead, and were transferring their frustrated fury onto him,
as well.

"Who the hell are you? Stupid meddler. You'll be sorry. " One of the men
rabbit punched him, knocking the wind from Duncan's lungs for a second, then
grabbed his wallet as he roughly searched him. The other agent growled more
threats, as they hustled him quickly across the corridor. The other  pair of
agents had placed  the dead man's body onto the now stopped luggage cart, one
covering the  man's face with his jacket, and had driven it away, rapidly, in
another direction. Duncan could hear sirens, wailing from the distance. <
More cops. I wonder if they've found that guard's body at Hilo yet?>

Another complication he didn't need, right now. That guard. Ikenes had been
his name. His life, 2,000 years of treachery and double dealing, murders,
plots, intrigue. He had killed so many. So many.....

Duncan fought to stay alert, to suppress and ignore the surging clamor of
voices that rose in him like a tide, the rushing babbling roar threatening to
drown out his very consciousness. It was too soon, too much....He needed time
to absorb these new ones. Time he didn't have.

He wondered if the Immortal's Watcher had intervened, had hidden the corpse,
like the Watcher had taken care of the other  bodies of those the treacherous
Ikenes had killed. He searched, inside. So much of the man's memories were
laced with his ugly, twisted emotions.  Duncan found it distasteful to even
access them, to try and pick through the lust, envy and rage that had driven
him, to find any facts among the roiling debris that was left of his
consciousness. And to access any one memory, any one life, right now, was
almost impossible, given the chaos and clamor that surged inside him.

Duncan was always cautious when he absorbed the Quickening of another
Immortal. Always on guard for an assault on his mind, and his body. He had
lost himself, more than once, in another's rage and life, overwhelmed by the
surge of emotion that accompanied the Quickening. It was hard, to win his
consciousness back, to wrestle for control of his mind, and body. But he had
done it, each time, and emerged stronger, tougher, more able to withstand
future assaults on his identity.

He was older now, more experienced, and then like a fool he'd forgotten to be
cautious. <But I didn't have a choice. How could I leave him there, to kill
again? I *had* to take his head.>  He'd balanced hundreds of Immortal souls
and minds and emotions, inside, for centuries now. A certain assurance, a
certain self confidence, had come to him, with that. There was always a
chance that he could lose himself again, but he'd ignored that possibility.
And some of those Immortals inside were very old,  very powerful. Very
patient.

This one hadn't been, though. He just felt evil, but in a small and nasty,
cowardly way. Like his method of attack. Cowardly. Nothing to worry Duncan,
normally. Or was it? Was it only the accumulated weight of two Quickenings,
and all those others' memories who came with them,  too fast, too soon, that
threw Duncan's balance off? Or was it something else...another sneak attack
by that so inconspicuous Ikenes? <He didn't survive 2,000 years by mistake. I
can't afford to underestimate him.>  It was almost ironic....to defeat  some
of the most powerful Immortals of his time, in direct combat, only to be
threatened, inside, by a treacherous sneak, and his own utter weariness.

Not if he could help it. Not yet. Duncan clung to control, grimly battling
inside,  as he moved along the half seen corridor between the two agents.

Ikenes'  Watcher....<this was odd>....Duncan pursued the thought, the elusive
impression...his Watcher seemed to have been in collusion with him. Not just
a Watcher. More like a partner. Not a Hunter, a partner. An ally. No time to
follow this thread of memory further, right now. He had more immediate
concerns.

 Maybe the Immortal hadn't even understood it correctly, himself. But if he
had.... <I'll have to talk to Dawson about this. Later. If there is a later.
>  He blinked, clearing his vision, and paid attention to the people around
him once again.

A grim faced older woman opened a door, one marked "Authorized Personnel
Only." She closed it behind them, coming inside and turning the lock, as the
two men dumped Duncan in a chair in the center of the room.

There were three more men in the room, dressed in formal office suits, but
with the jackets off, shirt sleeves rolled up, shoulder holsters and weapons
exposed and ready for use. One of the men who had brought Duncan in handed
his wallet to the woman. She glanced at it briefly then passed it to another
man. He picked up a phone and began talking quietly into it, reading
information from Duncan wallet. <Great. I've just invited myself to an
assassin's convention. And I forgot to bring my invitation. Kassmir, what can
you tell me about them?>

**Nothing, for you. Not a damn thing.** The surge of hate was astonishing,
from someone who was no longer *alive*. Almost as strong as during the first
Quickening. Duncan staggered, inside, and caught himself, pushing down hard
on the newly rising clamor, shutting it off for a moment, as he glanced
around the room.

One man was listening to a walkie talkie, speaking softly and listening to
static filled reports from his teams across the airport, evidently monitoring
 the progress of the chase. He didn't look happy. < Raven must still be
eluding them.  Good. >

Duncan  straightened his shoulders and glared at each of the men and the
woman in turn. They glared back and one of the men moved towards him,
menacingly. <Lets start on the offensive.>

"You really screwed things up, you know."  Duncan watched for the effect of
his words. The man paused, his eyes shifted to the woman for a moment,
looking for direction, his expression suddenly uncertain.

<So she's the boss, here. Focus on her.>

"I had him ready to deliver to you. Now he's gone. And your man is dead." He
put anger, and exasperation in to his voice. " It might take me weeks to
track him down again. And now he'll be suspicious that I helped set him up."
He looked at the woman, gauging her reaction. <Would she buy it?>

One of the other men started to respond, disbelief written across his face.
The woman held up a hand, silencing him for the moment. Interest piqued her
expression. <Yes. It's working.>

Duncan continued. "Thanks a lot for all your help. You just cost me a million
dollars. And yourself the life of one of your own men."  He stood,
straightened his clothes where the two gorillas had rumpled them, picked up
the computer case, and looked around the room challengingly.

"I'll let you know, when I catch up with him again. Maybe we can coordinate a
capture, this time, instead of you jumping in, messing it up and making him
run. Do you mind if I leave now? I've got a lot of work to do. And I'd like
my wallet back, if you don't mind. "  He took a step towards the door,
holding his hand out for the wallet, then stopped when the two men who'd
brought him in moved in front of the door, each holding a gun, each pointed
directly at his gut.

"I don't think so." One of the shirtsleeved men in the back of the room
spoke. "Not until we get to know you a bit better, Mr. Cartwright. Please,
sit back down."

<Raven was right. They tapped the ticket list. He didn't have any other way
out.> Duncan remained on his feet, eying the man who'd spoken. One of the men
with the guns stepped forward, gesturing Duncan to sit,  then shoving down
hard on his shoulder,  forcing him back into the seat. Duncan let him.

<Not time to fight, yet. I still want to find out more about them. Who they
are. How they think. What they're really after.>

The man with the walkie talkie slammed it against the wall, the noise making
everyone jump. Frustration was written across his face. "That's it. He'd
gone. They haven't made contact for 10 minutes. More than 200 cars,  taxis,
12 buses,  two commuter copters have gone out of here, since then. Also three
private planes, and two commercial flights. He could have been on any of
those. I told you we should have shut the place down." He stared angrily at
the woman, daring her to correct him.

Another man, sitting next to him, turned and said. "Frankie, shut up. You
know why we couldn't."

Frankie wouldn't let it alone. "And those were stupid reasons. Now look what
we have. Jack is dead. Some pony tailed wannabe making smart remarks, and no
Raven."

"Frankie, you have a big mouth." The man spoke evenly, the calm tones belying
the deadly promise in his eyes." Keep it closed. That's an order."  Frankie
subsided, glaring. He turned back to his walkie talkie, listening to the
pointless hunt.

<Dissension in the ranks. Very interesting.>

The woman spoke for the first time. She had a deep, husky voice, a whiskey
and cigarette voice. The men snapped to attention. <Sounds like she's given
orders to kill, before. And will again.>

She looked at Frankie. "Find out where the  planes are going. If any are
towards D.C. have them met. Make sure they search the wheelwells and baggage
area."

Frankie nodded, and began whispering instructions to his teams, turning away
from the group. The other men all stared at Duncan. No one smiled.

The woman walked towards him, her slender black pumps clicking on the tiled
floor. Her eyes reminded him of Kassmir. The same cold, flat stare, in pale
blue this time, instead of brown. The same ice in her soul. <This woman is
walking death. Is she bringing the gift to me?>

"What do you know about Raven?"  She smelled faintly of lilacs. There were
tiny lines around her eyes, across her forehead, the only real hint of her
age in her steel gray hair, tied severely back in a chignon. And in her eyes.
Ancient eyes.

"I know that you, at least I assume it's your people, wanted him. Or are you
a bunch of freelancers trying to pick up a fast buck yourself?" Duncan was
almost enjoying himself, too little sleep, too many deaths, too many
Quickenings, all in too short a time, combining to produce a sort of sudden
euphoria, as he flirted with the death that hid in the shape of this woman.

<How would a freelance bounty hunter act? Cheated? Outraged? Kassmir?>

* You're doing fine. * The ninja, the Dragon. <A new ally? Perhaps...>

The woman smiled at him, then threw back her head and laughed, aloud. The
other men stood in shocked silence, their eyes watching her, amazed. She
walked closer to Duncan, then put out her hand, lifting and cupping his jaw
as she raised his face, his eyes, to meet hers. The man behind her reached
for his gun, ready to shoot Duncan at the slightest wrong move, the slightest
hint of a threat.

"You are really quite amusing, Mr. "Cartwright."  She stressed the name,
mocking it, mocking him, questioning his claimed identity as a fraud in that
one tiny gesture. She had cold fingers, like the chill touch of the grave.
Duncan shook his head loose from her grasp. His skin felt clammy, violated,
from her touch. He raised his empty hand, slowly, watching the trigger happy
agent all the while, and rubbed his jaw, rubbed warmth and life back into his
face, where she had tried to suck it all out. He had seen enough. His
curiosity was more than satisfied. If these were the people after Raven, he
understood why Raven had run. But not why he killed. Never why he killed.
That would have to be settled, later.

"I am a busy man. You can verify my identity. Any way you choose. Just do it
quickly. You keep me from my work. Or are you afraid of a little
competition?" He threw out the challenge, hoping to stir a response. Hoping
to move the situation out of the locked box he was in. <What are my best
options? Get them to take me with them? If they find Raven, I'll know it. Get
them to let me go? They'll follow me to him, if they can, and capture or kill
us both. I need to push this to the limit.>

"I can deliver him to you, if you want him. Follow me, I'll take you to him,
but I don't trust you not to mess it up." <There, that should do it. Let's
see how the ice queen  takes that?>

The woman looked at him, frank appraisal in her eyes. "Why should we use you?
We know him, we worked with him. There's nothing in his life, no little
detail, we don't have documented. We know where he's going and we know why.
He was ours, and will always be ours. We don't need to buy back what we
already own."

<My, my , they are in for a few surprises, aren't they.> Duncan let the
amusement flash across his face, glint in his eyes for a second, then tamped
it down. <No reason to gloat. Just to let them know they don't know
*everything* about Raven.>

The woman had caught the beginning of his grin, and pounced on it, on him,
curiosity replacing the mockery on her face.

"You do know something about him. Something you think we don't."  She rubbed
her hands together, considering, then stepped back, out of his reach. "What's
to keep us from dragging it out of you, here and now?" She glanced at one of
the burly men standing at the door, and nodded to him. He moved towards
Duncan, his fingers curved slightly, reaching out for Duncan's neck. Duncan
tensed, ready to fight, or to run.

"There's no need to drag it out of me. I said I'd take you to him. " Duncan
tried for an aggrieved tone, the businessman protesting his good faith. "I
just want to make some money. Is that so wrong?" <Show the greed, it always
works.>

The woman stopped her thug with a raised eyebrow. "Some money....and how much
did you have in mind?"

<Yes. They bought it. I'm in, at least my motives are clear to them, now.>
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