Date: Wed, 13 Jul 1994 23:29:28 EDT Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: "(Nancy Cleveland)" Subject: Aloha Part 3 (of 7) Steam rose in billowing clouds from the shower. Jonathan leaned back, eyes closed, letting the hot water run down his shoulders, trying to loosen the tension that still knotted his muscles. There was nothing to go on, nothing at all, but this persistent sense of wrongness, of diffused menace, would not go away. He made a decision. After the auction today, he'd leave. Take the boy if he wanted to come. Otherwise, just put the house up for sale and go. 'Ski could show it for him. Just as long as he kept the kitchen clean. < I can always hire a weekly maid service, to come in before any buyers do and pick up dirty socks and old jelly sandwiches. At least that's cheaper than having it vandalized while it sits empty. > Mentally, he started packing. Not much to carry. Just his Laptop computer, a few changes of clothes. The katana? He'd decide about that later. The rest could go in storage. He'd draw from his Swiss account as he traveled. Look for a place to settle down, far away from people for a while. Somewhere different. Maybe in the Italian Alps? Or the Pyrennes. Mountains, anyhow. Somewhere on the Continent. Somewhere with fewer guns, fewer drugs, less crime. Somewhere where lost kids prostituting themselves on the streets didn't stumble into his house and his heart every other week. Somewhere the Black Dragons wouldn't think to find him. Or the Agency. Since Vulcan had come out to the Islands on that last, fatal, failed contract, he hadn't heard a peep from the Director. Jonathan still kept tabs on the Director's house, and his security. Just in case. He wondered idly how Vulcan was enjoying his retirement. He hadn't heard from him, lately. Maybe it was time to pay him a visit. A shadow flickered on the edge of his vision. Jari was up. Good. He hadn't wanted to wake the boy, or force him to admit he was only pretending to be asleep, when he'd arrived back this morning. < I have to give him some room, some trust. But how much is too much? > Jonathan stepped out of the shower, toweled off the water and wrapped his black kimono around him. He picked up another towel and rubbed it briskly through his hair as he walked towards the kitchen. The boy was sitting at the table, looking pensively out the window at the ocean, a half finished glass of orange juice in front of him, still in the swim trunks from yesterday. "Good morning." Jonathan poured a glass of juice for himself, then took down his cutting board and pulled some vegetables out of the refrigerator. < Take it slow, see where he's coming from. > "Hi." < Great, he can still talk. > "Want some breakfast?" He expertly diced the green peppers, added a handful of shallots, some mushrooms and a baby zucchini, then set a small wok on the gas stove. There was no response from the boy. Jonathan poured some rice oil into the wok, tossed in the vegetables, stirred them briskly, then neatly separated them, still crisp and steaming, onto two ceramic plates. He walked over to the table, put one plate in front of the boy, pulled a chair out and sat down opposite him. He started eating, savoring the subtle flavors of the meal. The boy turned away from the window and poked at the food, toying with it, but not eating. "How are you feeling, Jari? Not hungry?" "I'm fine. Just tired." < Ah, an opening. > "I'd expect to be tired too, considering how late you were out last night. Where did you go?" < Damn, there had to be better ways to ask. I'll never say parenting is easy again. Well there it is. Let's see what happens. > "I had to go see a friend. Let him know I was o.k." < At least he's not denying it. > "Why didn't you tell me you had to go?" "I didn't think it was any of your business." The boy looked defiant, and a bit scared. "Jari, if you are staying with me, where you go is my business.Those are the rules, remember?" Jari stared down at his juice, tracing patterns on the moist beaded glass with his finger. < Gently now. > "Who was this friend? The one you went to see?" < His connection? His pimp? > "He's my buddy. We hang out together. I didn't want him to think I'd disappeared. He'd get worried. Kids do that, sometimes. Just disappear. And sometimes they wash up on the beach, later." He lifted his chin, stared determinedly at Jonathan. "We look out for each other. Nobody else cares." "I care." Jonathan let out an exasperated breath. < Another complication. How many friends was Jari going to trot out, now? And were they all going to need a place to stay? > "Is your friend living on the streets, too? How old is he?" < How many spare bedrooms do I have? Do I really want to open a crash pad for straying youth? > "Hikari's like me." < Hikari? > Jonathan stiffened, listening intently, hardly breathing, wiling the boy to continue. "I guess he's my age. I never asked. Sometimes we'd crash together, but mostly we wouldn't. He pimped, see. I wasn't into that, but he'd go off with these old guys all the time." Jari paused, thoughtfully. "I couldn't handle that. Running is safer. " Tamping down the wild hope that surged in his heart, Jonathan kept his voice steady and a tried for a casual tone. "What does this Hikari look like? Is he a runaway too, like you?" "Are you gonna get him in trouble? I don't want you sending the cops after him. I shouldn't have told you his name. He told me not to trust anybody." "You can trust me, Jari. I'm not going to send the police after your friend. Just tell me, what does he look like?" Raven willed himself to patience. It was probably nothing, another false lead. The boy paused, then took a deep breath. "O.K., you've been pretty cool so far. Hikari and me, people called us the twins. He's just like me, almost. He's a little taller, I guess. He never said anything about having any parents. He told me he ran away from some people. They weren't his family. He said that at least on the streets he'd get paid to put out." < Aki? Hikari? Could this be the one? What are you doing, my possible son? What has been done to you? > "Could you take me to meet....Hikari?" Jonathan savored the name, rolling it over on his tongue, in his mind. "Why do you want to see him? You're not looking for a lay, are you?" Jari edged away, shifting in his seat to put more distance between them, crossing his arms defensively. "I didn't think you were like that. I don't do that, you know." < What does he think of adults? Dealers, pimps, customers for sex or drugs. Those are his only role models. How do these kids ever learn to trust again? Maybe they never do. > "It's nothing like that, Jari. I just thought maybe he'd like to quit living on the streets, too." Jonathan stood and took his plate to the sink, submerging his eagerness in the mundane kitchen routine. "Eat some breakfast, why don't you. I'll clean up." He soaped his plate and rinsed out the wok, giving the boy room to relax. Jari uncrossed his arms and picked up the chopsticks awkwardly. He took a tentative bite of the food, and grimaced. "Zucchini? For breakfast? Yuck!" "It's good for you." Jonathan grinned. "I have a friend who will agree with you totally, though. You just have to change your perspective. Think of it as an early dinner. Breakfast should be the largest meal of your day." Jonathan turned off the water, wiped his plate dry and put it on the shelf. He leaned on the counter, casually, watching the boy. Jari was still poking at his plate, dropping more than he managed to get to his mouth, but trying determinedly to eat. "Would it help if you used a fork?" Jonathan held one out, a peace offering. Jari flashed a quick smile, put down the chopsticks and took the fork. He wolfed the food down, grimacing occasionally at the zucchini, but finishing it all. Jonathan took the plate from him, and rinsed it out. "Tonight, you can do the dishes. And I'll teach you how to cook with a wok. Have you ever tried?" Jari shook his head, looking intrigued. "I never cooked anything. We just get fast food, or cans, when we're broke. I remember my mom, though. She spent all her time at the stove, when she wasn't fighting with her latest boyfriend. But she never cooked anything like this. Not when I was there, anyhow." "How old were you when she died, Jari?" "I'm not really sure. Maybe 10. All I know is how old my birth certificate says I am. That's all I've got left. All that's mine." "You've got more than that, Jari. You have yourself. You have your future. It can be anything you want it to be. You can be. Never forget that." < Is he even listening? > "Sure. You can say that. Look at this place." The boy flung his arm out, gestured at the room, the window, the view. "You're rich. You can do anything. Go anywhere. You don't know what life's about." < You'll never know, boy. You'll never know. > "You are not the only kid who's lost his parents, Jari. Mine died when I was about your age. They were killed, actually." Jonathan willed the boy to look at him, to meet his eyes. "Everything you see here, I earned myself, later". < Just don't tell him how, right? > Jari turned, incredulous. "You're just making that up. Why should I believe you?" "Why should I bother to make something up? Have I ever lied to you?" Jonathan walked to the dining room and opened his cabinet. The clippings were there. Maybe this could win the boy's trust. He pulled out one yellowed piece of newsprint. The International Herald Tribune had reported the story in English. All the other coverage had been local, in Japan. He smoothed down the flimsy rice papers, closed the box, and took the yellowed clipping to the kitchen. "Here." He held it out to the boy. Jari took the paper and squinted at it, laboriously forming the words with his lips as he slowly read the caption under the photo. "That was your dad?" Jari looked at the picture, looked at Raven. "Yes." The boy silently handed the clipping back. Jonathan returned it to the box, and carefully put it away. < Until next time, mother, father. Sleep in peace. > Jari stood in the kitchen doorway, watching. Jonathan closed the cabinet drawer, then moved to the sliding screen door that led to the side driveway. "I'm going out now. To a sale. Antiques. Old weapons. You might find it interesting. You can come with me if you want, or stay here, or leave. Take your pick." He spoke harshly. < It still hurt, to look at their faces. Still. > "I'd like to come with you. If it's o.k." Jonathan held the door open. Jari followed him out. Jonathan climbed into the Jeep, Jari settled into the passenger's seat beside him. The muscles in his back contracted. < I feel like a naked target. Someone is out there. > He reached into his jacket and pulled out his mobile phone, hit the auto dial button and listened. He started the Jeep and backed down the driveway, one handed. "Yeah?" A tinny voice came over the air. "Ski, is that you?" He was at the street now, and maneuvered into the light suburban traffic. "Jonathan, what's up buddy? And why so early? I need my beauty sleep." In the background Jonathan could hear at least one giggle. So Ski had company. Good for him. "Could you come over to my place and check it out. I think someone has a stake out on it, but I haven't seen them. Just sort of be here, you know, until I get back. Bring your friend, make it a party if you want." He was merging onto the highway now, traffic still light, appropriate for a Saturday morning in June. If there was ever a lull time in the tourist season, it was now, when the weather in the harsh northern climates was actually pleasant. The snowbirds had all headed home. "OK, Jonathan, but this will cost you." "Anything you want, Ski. Just name your price." "Two T-bone steaks, for starters." "That will be fine, Ski. See you around 5." Ski didn't know it yet, but he'd be settling in for a longer stay. < I'll have to call a realtor on the way home. Someone should be open by then. > Jonathan grinned, and checked the rearview mirror. Still no obvious tail, still that sense of being followed. < Let's take a shortcut. > He merged abruptly into the exit lane and sped down the ramp, hit a string of yellow lights and nipped through a changing red, then sedately continued down the main urban boulevard. "Wow, I didn't know you could drive like that," Jari let go of the dashboard and grinned broadly. "That was fun. Can we do it again?" "Only on Sundays." Jonathan winked at him, and glanced in the rear view again.Nothing had flushed, but he still felt watched. Could there be a mobile tracer on the Jeep? He'd sweep for bugs when he got back. The phone was digital, and scrambled, so it was secure. But anything else, was up for grabs. He frowned. < Maybe I've gotten sloppy. But I'm leaving, Tomorrow. After I check out this new kid. This WILL be the last one. > "Have you thought about what I asked, about meeting your friend?" Jonathan noticed he was holding his breath, and let it out slowly. Breathe. In. Out. He glanced sideways at Jari. The boy's grin had faded. He looked somber, his faced pinched and suspicious once again. "What's the matter, Jari? Cat got your tongue?" Jonathan reached over to ruffle the boy's hair. Jari ducked and batted his hand away. "I like you. Why do you want to meet Hikari too? You don't have room for two of us at your place. Do you want to take him instead of me? Aren't I good enough?" "Whoa now. First of all, how do you even know that Hikari will want to come, or that he and I will get along, or that we'll be staying in that house? I'm planning on doing some traveling. You , and he, if he wants, can both come with me." Jonathan glanced sideways again. Jari's expression had lightened a bit. "Traveling? Where?" There was real excitement in the boy's voice now. "I haven't decided, but we'll be leaving tomorrow, after I've had a chance to meet your friend." Jonathan pulled into the parking lot of the Khona Hilton. A uniformed car hop waited to take his keys. Jonathan turned to the boy, laid a restraining hand on his arm as he half rose to get out of the jeep. "What about Hikari?" "I'll go find him, tonight, and ask him if he wants to come see you, ok?" Jari jumped down and stood on the sidewalk, looking scruffy and out of place among the elegantly dressed stream of pedestrians who moved in and out of the smoked, double glass doors. Jonathan nodded. < It's a start. I can always track him down on my own, now that I know a name. Another name, another dead end. Just this last time, I'll hope. > He tossed his keys to the waiting carhop, and pulled a windbreaker out from under his seat. Jari was already inside the lobby, standing casually near a large potted palm, calmly surveying the flow of guests. A hotel detective was moving towards him, grim purpose in his eyes. < Probably thinks he's a pickpocket. Probably right, too. > Jonathan intercepted the man before he reached Jari. "I'm here for the auction.The boy is with me. I'll vouch for him." The detective nodded stiffly and withdrew, casting occasional glances back at the pair as he prowled the other side of the lobby. < He won't forget us. He's memorized our faces. > Jonathan handed Jari the windbreaker. "Put this on, now, and stay close to me. Otherwise you'll end up out on the street." Jari zipped up the tan jacket, puling the oversized sleeves up over his wrists so the fabric bunched instead of hanging over his hands. Much better. In his pocket, Jonathan carried the embossed, gilt printed invitation. He took it out and showed it to one of a pair of heavyset men standing by the ballroom's closed doors. < Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just glad to see me? > The first guard glanced at the invitation, and stepped aside to let him and the boy pass inside. The second stepped forward and blocked their path. "I see only one name on this?" He made it a question. "We're together, obviously." "Let me check with the organizer. Please wait." The guard turned and spoke inaudibly into a small throat mike, then listened intently. He had a miniature receiver taped to his ear. It hummed in response. < These guys act like government issue. I thought this was a private affair. > Jonathan's senses were on alert now. Something more than just an auction was happening here. < Leave. Run. Get out, now. > He ignored the inner warning, the stronger pull of curiosity overriding his normal caution. < What are these items worth, to rate this security? > The guard turned back to them and attempted a smile. It never reached his eyes. "Sorry to hold you folks up" He opened the door. "Please, go right in. Enjoy the exhibit." Jari slipped past the guard, eying him sideways like he expected the man to bite. < What the hell, if the Agency wants me, they know where to find me. > Jonathan followed him inside. The room was dusky. The lights were lowered, to heighten the impact of the spotlights on the dozen or so items exhibited for inspection prior to the sale. < It's definitely time to give Vulcan a call. And to check with my contacts in the District. They wouldn't dare try a termination. They know what my death will do to them. The Director would never risk it. So what's going on? Who is the target? > He scanned the room, walking casually after Jari towards the exhibit area, looking for patterns of motion, surveillance. Nothing. < Maybe the whole place is wired? > The boy stood in front of a rusted, cracked shield. Faint, faded enamels decorated its battered, dented surface. It hung in midair, suspended by shimmering, almost invisible nylon strands, glowing under the beam of a single spot light. Jonathan moved to his side. "What do you think of it, Jari? "This rusty old junk? Who cares. All this stuff is all beat up and broken. I thought you said these were really valuable. I've never seen anything like this in anybody's house... " He broke off, abruptly, biting his lips and glancing at Jonathan to see if he'd caught the slip. < Anybody's house you broke into, you mean. > Jonathan finished the sentence for him, silently. He smiled at the boy, and winked. Jari looked down, embarrassed. "Real antiques, things that have authentic history attached to them, often are not pretty and presentable. Like the people who made them matter, they've been through a lot. Do you know whose shield this was?" Jari shook his head. Jonathan stepped back from it, squinted his eyes. < Yes, it brought out the faded enamels a bit more. > "This carries the house of arms of a King of England. See the lion, and the gryphon, here, and here. Richard the Lionhearted carried this on the Crusades. He lost it when he was captured during a battle outside Jerusalem, in the 14th century. It has been in the private collection of the Caliph's family, ever since. This is the first time in almost 600 years this has ever been offered for sale, or exhibited in public. You would never find something like this in a suburban mansion in Hileah. It is unique, like everything else in here." Jari squinted at the design. "What's a gryphon?" < Well, its a start.. > " Here, and here. Its a mythological beast with the head of an eagle, the body of a lion, wings, and the tail of a dragon. It represents unconquerable power." Jari looked at the shield dubiously. "It still looks like junk to me." "Appearances can be deceiving." Jonathan moved on to the next exhibit, his senses alert for any particular ripple of interest in the random patterns of motion in the room. Several dozen prospective purchasers browsed from item to item, some carrying small notebooks in which they recorded their impressions of the pieces. No nibbles yet. A tattered, pale silk banner hung in the pool of light. It was stained, worn and almost translucent, the fabric was so old and fragile. "What's this? Some old flag?" Jari looked thoroughly bored. < At least he's asking questions. > Jonathan paused. Someone was interested. A man was hovering, just behind them. Jonathan moved casually around the banner, and the shadow followed. < Bingo! Now let's find out the agenda. > "Have you ever heard of Jeanne D'Arc? Joan of Arc?" Jari shook his head. Jonathan sighed. The shadow still hovered, but had moved to the other side of the banner, so the light outlined his silhouette, leaving his face and features in the dark. The shadow was scribbling notes into his pad, glancing down, then at the banner, checking all the details. < Very professional. I approve. Let's see how you make contact, now. > "Joan of Arc was a peasant girl in 12th century France. The country was at war, with the Franks. They are called the Germans, now. France was losing, they were about to be conquered. Joan saw a vision, of the Virgin Mary, leading the French to victory. She walked to the town where the king and his military advisors were camped, and insisted on speaking to him. She convinced him that her vision meant the French should attack. He let her lead the army in battle. They won. The enemy was defeated. The kingdom was saved. This was her banner." Jari looked up. "I didn't know girls could be generals back then. What happened to her afterwards? Did she get a reward?" < Maybe I should have let this one slide. > "Sort of. She was given honor, money, and lands, and led the army to other victories." The shadow moved forward, emerging in the shared pool of light as a middle aged man, dressed in a dark, elegantly tailored suit. He had dark close cropped hair and a neat moustache. His even features were marked by pitted scars. < Smallpox? No one gets smallpox anymore. > "What he isn't telling you, young man, is that she was burned at the stake, by the very same king she saved a nation for." The man's voice was remarkable, an almost musical baritone, with an indefinable accent. < Turkish? Possibly. > Jonathan looked at his eyes. They were unreadable. Deep liquid pools of ice. Cold as death. < That was the message. Who was it for? > =========================================================================