Date: Tue, 19 Sep 1995 11:57:58 EDT Reply-To: Russ McMillan Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Russ McMillan Subject: Dark Side, Part 6 The Dark Side of the Mirror, Part 6 by Russet McMillan mcmillan@astro.psu.edu "Look," Amanda was saying as Joe entered the barge. "I don't care what Duncan said to you. I'm older than the two of you put together, and I can handle myself. I'll help you hunt for this Melander if you want, but right now I'm more worried about --" She stared at Dawson. "Joe? What happened? You're white as a sheet." Joe set Duncan's katana and the fragments of his cane on the table, pulled back a chair, and collapsed into it. At least he only had one knee to tremble, he reflected humorously. Connor was leaning over him in an instant. "Where's Duncan?" he demanded. "Gone," Joe said. "He left." "Without his sword?" "He -- took a swing at me. Out of nowhere. In the middle of the quai. Then he just -- ran away." "Which way?" Connor reached for his coat. "West along the quai, but you won't catch him. It was a few minutes ago. I have no idea where he was headed. I don't even know if he was thinking straight." "Damn!" Connor exclaimed. "Wait," Amanda objected. "Why would Duncan do a thing like that?" "I don't know. He's been acting strange lately. I . . . asked him what was wrong, but he wouldn't tell me." Joe leaned his elbows on the table and massaged his temples. His mind was beginning to clear a little. "Connor, you seem to know something about this. Can you tell what's wrong with Duncan?" Connor looked grim. "I'm not completely sure, but I've seen this sort of thing before. After a while, it just gets to be too much, absorbing all those quickenings. You begin to lose touch. Some get over it, some -- go crazy." "Not Duncan!" Amanda said. "He has too much experience, too much willpower. He can stand up to it. He's done it before." "Ordinarily, I would agree," Connor said. "But times are different for us now. The Gathering is here, and everything is changing." He turned to Joe. "How many heads has Duncan taken in the past three years, since Slan Quince?" "Thirty-two," Joe answered without stopping to think. "And before that?" Joe lifted a hand to his mouth. "I wasn't watching him that long. Obviously." "But you've read the chronicles." The Watcher sighed. "All right. From the time he was identified in the seventeenth century to 1992, Macleod took twenty-four heads that we know about. A few more are suspected." Connor nodded and looked at Amanda again. "You see? We're all used to having plenty of time to adjust, after we've taken someone's quickening, but these days there is no time. Duncan's taken more heads in the past three and a half years than in the three and a half centuries before that. And all of them were evil, or mad -- people who gave him no choice but to fight." He shook his head. "I got pretty strange myself for a while, after I killed the Kurgan. And the past few years . . . that's why I went to Cassandra. I thought she could teach me how to deal with it better. And she did. If I can just find Duncan, maybe I can help him too." "I'm not sure Duncan's in any state to learn new tricks right now, Connor," Joe replied. "I'll get through to him somehow," Connor said grimly. "Well, first you have to find out where he is." "You'll do that." "Why me?" "You're supposed to be the expert on spying." "Now, wait --" "And you know more about his recent contacts than I do." Joe subsided reluctantly. "What will you be doing?" Amanda asked. Connor picked up his coat. "I'm hunting Melander. That's what I came here for." "There's more at stake right now than your precious vengeance! I think Duncan is more important --" "Exactly," Connor interrupted, leaning toward her for emphasis. "I'm doing this for Duncan, as much as for Grace and Cassandra. Don't you see? Melander holds Cassandra's quickening -- all her knowledge and power. If I can tap into that, maybe I can find out how to help Duncan." "What about you, Amanda?" asked Joe. "Do you want to help out Connor, or me?" Amanda's teeth plucked at her lower lip as she considered. "You'll be safer with him," Connor said. Her brows rose. "Will I? You can protect me better, if I'm with you." "That's true," Connor conceded. Joe stared at Amanda. "And we stand a better chance of catching Melander if we work as a team." Amanda gave Joe a bright smile. "It sounds like I'd better go with Connor." "How are you going to find this -- Melander?" "We'll have to draw him out somehow," Connor said slowly. "I'll be the bait," Amanda said. "No," Connor declared. She glared at him. "I told you, Highlander, I am no infant. He's been stalking me anyway -- we can use that against him." "He's stalking you?" Joe exclaimed. "He's been making his presence known, just trying to rattle me, so far. Once last night, just before I met Connor, and once --" "We're not sure that was Melander," Connor interrupted. "It wasn't Duncan!" Connor held his hands up in surrender. "Fine. It wasn't Duncan." He didn't sound entirely convinced. "That still doesn't help us." Amanda nibbled at a fingernail, her brow puckered. "Actually, I think I _may_ know a way to bring him to us." "Allo?" "Mr. Black?" "Yes." "She called me again." "What?" "She wishes to arrange another meeting. She said she was sorry the first one was cut short." "How very interesting. Is it the same place?" "No, I suggested the square in front of Notre Dame this time." "Heh." "Because it is near a cathedral. Did I do right? You said--" "Yes, yes. I suppose it will serve well enough. When is this to happen?" "This evening at ten o'clock." "Very well. Just try to keep her occupied for a while." "So who is this man?" Connor asked. "He's a fence." Amanda scanned the crowds passing before the floodlit cathedral. "Duncan told me you gave up burglary." "I did!" Amanda stamped for emphasis. "This is old merchandise. I stole it years ago, but it was too hot to sell at the time. I've been holding on to it. Now I'm ready to look for a buyer. This fellow told me he has connections. I'm not sure if I believe him, though." "But you do think he has a connection to Melander." "Well, that was the first place Melander showed up. Something of a coincidence, considering it was the first time in a while that I'd been well away from Duncan _and_ out of reach of Holy Ground." Amanda stiffened as she saw a familiar face. "Here he comes. Get out of the way, Connor. If Melander shows up, you don't want him to sense you." Connor sighed and faded backward through the press of late-night strollers. Amanda met her contact on the seal that marked the geographic center of Paris. She spoke with him pleasantly for a while, trying to guess from his demeanor if this meeting really was a set-up. He seemed nervous, as if he were waiting for someone. Amanda's polite smile became sharper-edged, and she pretended to be quite taken in by his claims of a wealthy, secretive buyer. When a familiar roaring started in her ears, Amanda began to lead her associate casually toward the steps of the cathedral. They mounted them, still talking, until Amanda could feel the warm tingle of holy ground beneath her boots. The purported fence cut himself off in mid-word. "I have to go now," he said hastily. "A -- business meeting I forgot about. We can talk again later." Looking slightly pale, he hurried away. "Don't turn around," said a voice behind Amanda. "Why not?" she said calmly. "This is holy ground; you can't threaten me here." "I can't take your head, but I expect the gun I have aimed at your heart could cause quite a stir if it went off. It's always unpleasant, isn't it, to die in public? To be forced to abandon one's identity, to start a new life, to lose so many friends . . . " "All right," said Amanda. She wrinkled her nose at a sudden whiff of cigarette smoke. "Why did you come here?" "Such a pity that your boyfriend couldn't join us. I understand he's wanted by the police for murder." "What?" "Oh, didn't he tell you why he had to leave town so suddenly?" Amanda's lips tightened. "No, he didn't." "Ah, but the course of true love is often badly pitted." "Forget about that. What do you want?" "Why, you, my dear." "Well, you've picked a poor place for it." "I know. Perhaps you could suggest something better?" "I'd be happy to. How about --" Amanda stiffened as she sensed another Immortal approaching. Connor only had time to glimpse a figure in a black trenchcoat standing behind Amanda; then his view was blocked, and by the time he reached her, she was alone. "You scared him away!" she accused. "Well, that _was_ sort of the point." "You don't have to protect me when I'm on holy ground! He wasn't expecting anyone to be with me. He knows about Duncan." Connor became very still. "Knows what about Duncan?" "He knows Duncan is gone. He said the police want him for a murder! Did you know about this?" "No." Connor frowned. "Dawson might. He was holding something back. Did you get a good look at this man?" "No, I didn't see him at all. He told me to keep my back to him, or he'd shoot me in public." "Damn! What about his voice?" "His French had a southern accent -- Italian, or maybe Greek. It was just a normal voice." "You didn't recognize it?" "No, why should I?" "You shouldn't. Not if it really is Melander." "Who else would it be?" Connor shook his head. "It's not important. Just a crazy idea." "Connor. Now you're the one who's holding back." "I tell you, it's nothing important! I'm sure it can't be right, anyway. Just now we have to worry about how to find Melander again. He's going to be more elusive now that he knows I'm protecting you." Connor considered. "Tell me more about this fence you came to meet." Alain Marchand stepped out of the tabac and headed home, whistling under his breath. His path took him through a dark area where some of the lights had burned out and others were blocked by the corners of buildings, but he was generally more comfortable in shadows anyway. As he moved into the inky no-man's-land between the lights, a hand grabbed him and forced him against the wall of a building. He dropped his bag and winced as he heard the wine bottle break. Then something long, sharp and gleaming was pressed up under his chin. "What do you want?" he gasped. "I don't have much money --" "You set up a meeting tonight," said the man who had grabbed him. His voice was silky, menacing and slightly accented. "What?" "A meeting with a lady," the man continued. "I don't know what you're talking about!" Alain cried. "And you invited a third party to this meeting." The long blade suddenly pressed harder, making Alain gasp. "I want to know how to find this -- third party." "Look, I don't know --" Alain began. The man's free hand shoved Alain hard against the wall. His eyes glittered hard under short-cropped hair. "Now this can be easy, or it can be hard," he said. "The easy way is if you tell me what I want to know, and I let you go. The hard way is if I have to cut off one of your ears to make you speak." Alain whimpered. "Now, where is he?" "I don't know! Mr. Black just gave me a number to call!" "Black?" The man's lips curled in grim satisfaction. "Yes, that's the man I want. What number did he have you call?" "I -- I can't remem --" "Don't hold back on me." The gleaming blade moved slightly to tickle Alain's ear lobe. "The Hilton! Room 509!" "Very good." The stranger stepped back and moved his sword away. Alain sank to his knees. "Now, I expect Mr. -- Black -- will be very unhappy if he learns of this conversation. I won't tell him if you won't." "I won't say anything!" Alain vowed. "Smart of you. I would advise you to get out of town." "Yes -- yes! Anything you say!" Alain realized he was speaking to an empty street. Connor shared his information with Amanda. "We can find him at the Hilton. It's a good place to set up a trap." "It's a lousy place! You can't fight in a hotel. Witnesses everywhere, security cameras, limited exits . . ." "Actually, I thought we could get him down to the parking garage." Amanda stared at him. "Set off a quickening among all those cars? You don't think a few million francs worth of property damage would attract attention?" Connor shrugged. "I've done it before." "And did you get away with it?" Amanda nodded at his thin-lipped silence. "No," she went on, "better to get into the hotel room when he's not there and see what he's up to. We can set a trap for him wherever we want, then." Connor sighed. "All right, you're the expert on break-ins. What do we do, pick the lock?" She paced the barge. "Why couldn't he stay in a proper hotel? Preferably one with locks about your age." "What's wrong with the Hilton?" Connor asked. "It has those new locks, operated by magnetic cards. They update the cards every once in a while, which makes them just about impossible to forge. Given a few days to prepare, it usually isn't hard to steal a master, but we don't have the time." "How are we going to get to him then?" Amanda chewed her thumbnail thoughtfully. "We'll have to wait until tomorrow anyway, because he's bound to be at the hotel now. That gives us a little time." Suddenly she smiled. "I know. Call the Hilton. Tell them you want to make a reservation. And ask them if room 609 is free." =========================================================================