Date: Mon, 9 Oct 1995 09:59:12 EDT Reply-To: Russ McMillan Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Russ McMillan Subject: Death, Lies, and Jewelry, Part 1/5 Death, Lies, and Jewelry, Part 1 by Russet McMillan mcmillan@astro.psu.edu Duncan Macleod was just heading for the door of the dojo to lock up when it opened. "Sorry, we're closed," he said to the young woman who entered. "Class times and gym hours are posted on the bulletin board." "Um, I didn't come to use the gym," she said, pushing her dark hair from her eyes. "I came to talk to you, Mr. Macleod." Her face was slightly familiar. "You're Richie's old friend," Duncan realized, groping for the name. "Angie?" "That's right." She flashed a smile, then returned to a nervous solemnity. "I, uh, I was real sorry to hear about Richie." "I beg your pardon?" "The bike accident. In France? We were all, uh, pretty shocked." "Oh." Duncan leaned back against the wall, his expression shuttered. "I didn't think the news would have traveled this far." "Oh, a lot of my old friends -- Richie's old friends -- are really into the bike scene. We watched his races on satellite TV. When we saw the crash, and the fire --" She swallowed. "He was already unconscious by that time," Duncan said truthfully. "He didn't feel any pain." "Yeah. Well." "Can I help you with anything, Angie?" "Yeah, that's why I came. I was wondering if you could tell me where Richie's stuff is. You see," she continued in a rush, "I left something with him for safekeeping. A key. To a -- a safety deposit box. And now I need it back." "I see," said Duncan slowly. "Well, a lot of Richie's stuff is packed away in storage. Do you know where he kept this key?" "Um, yeah. He taped it inside the spine of his copy of _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_." She blushed. "I gave it to him when we were sixteen." Duncan nodded. "All right. I'll look around and see if I can find it. Why don't you drop by in a few days, or call me, and I'll tell you what I've found." Angie plucked her lower lip between her teeth. "Um. Do you think you could find out by tomorrow? It's kind of urgent." Duncan raised his brows. "I guess I can do that," he said in an easy tone, studying her expression keenly. "Oh, good! Thanks a lot, Mr. Macleod. This will really help me out. And, uh --" She paused, clearly embarrassed. "I'm real sorry about Richie, but, you know, I'm still glad he made it off the street. It was real good of you to help him. He'd probably be rotting in prison by now if it wasn't for you." Duncan's lips twitched. "I know." "At least this way he got a chance at a real life. Listen, thanks again, Mr. Macleod. You can't know what this means to me. I'll, uh, come back tomorrow evening, about this same time. Would that be all right?" "Sure." Duncan held the door open for Angie to get out. He watched her walk away, noting the way her head turned nervously to survey the entire street. With a frown, he locked the door. He went up to the loft and pulled a box from the back of a closet. Richie didn't have too many books; most of them had been gifts from Tessa, and they were all kept in one place. Near the bottom of the box he found a hardback copy of Pirsig's book, and taped inside the bottom of the spine was a small key. He examined it thoughtfully. He knew that Richie had always trusted Angie. She was his oldest friend, and the most reliable. She had somehow managed to avoid the alternatives of crime, drugs, or prostitution that most of the kids in their neighborhood -- including Richie -- had been sucked into. But the way she had been acting tonight, she might have been trying to sell him farmland in the Florida Everglades. What could she be up to? He picked up the phone and dialed an answering service whose number he had come to know well. "Richie, as soon as you get this message, call me. I don't care what time it is. You've got some serious trouble." By the next evening, Richie still had not called back. Duncan met Angie at the door, still unsure what he ought to do. "Hello, Angie. I found what you were looking for." He pulled the key out of his pocket. "Oh, great! Thanks, Mr. Macleod. I hope you didn't have too much trouble finding it." "No, actually, it turned out to be in one of the boxes Richie left here with me." He looked at her candidly. "You know, if that's Richie's safety deposit box, you won't be able to get to it." "What? Oh! No, it's my box. I just gave Richie a copy of the key for, for safekeeping. And it's a good thing I did, too, because I lost mine!" "I see," said Duncan. "Well, I'm glad I could help you out. Watch your step on the stairs, there." He watched Angie hurry down to the street level, looking both ways as she went. Then she turned around the corner. Duncan slipped out the door and followed silently. A block away, Angie got into the passenger side of a car. The other silhouettes inside seemed to be men, but Duncan couldn't make out any details in the darkness. He turned back toward the dojo with a troubled frown. He still hadn't learned what he wanted. Duncan glared down at his phone. "Dammit, Richie, don't you ever check your messages?" The following evening, Duncan was halfway through a plate of spaghetti when he heard a roaring in his ears. He swallowed a meatball and raised his head, trying to pinpoint the source of the buzz, but he couldn't tell who it was. He wiped his mouth hastily and grabbed his katana, ready to go out and look for the other Immortal. The elevator started into motion before he had gone three steps. Duncan waited warily until the gate rolled up to reveal Richie on the other side. "Hiya, Mac," said the young Immortal. "I got your message." Duncan lowered his sword and gritted his teeth. "Then why didn't you _call_ me?" he demanded. Richie assumed a hurt expression. "What, no 'Hello Richie, nice to see you'? I tried to call, but you weren't in. I was in this general area, so I figured what the heck, I might as well drop by." He flung himself onto the couch. "Man, am I beat! I've done more traveling in the past couple months than a workaholic flight attendant. I mean --" "Richie . . . " Duncan said warningly as he set the sword aside. Richie sniffed the air. "Smells good. What is it, spaghetti? Got any left over?" "Richie!" "All right, all right. So what's this major problem you wanted to tell me about?" "The problem is, you need to keep out of town right now!" "How come?" Richie bent a measuring eye on the bowl of spaghetti. "Because, your friends here know you're dead." Richie froze with one hand poised over Duncan's food. "What?" Duncan grabbed the plate out of his reach. "Turns out they were so excited you got onto a pro racing team, they watched all your races over satellite feeds. They saw the whole thing." "Oh." Richie sank down on the couch again, deflated. "Yeah, `Oh,'" Duncan returned sarcastically. "I warned you about this." Richie threw his hands up. "Enough with the I-told-you-so's, already! Okay, so you warned me. So, I didn't listen. So, you're always right. So, I can never see my old friends again. Aw, hell." He hung his head. "All of them?" "I don't know how far the word has spread, but I think you have to assume everybody knows," Duncan said more sympathetically, sitting backwards at the table. "Angie stopped by to express her condolences." "Angie? Aw, no. Mac --" Richie looked up pleadingly. "Can't I tell her? Just Angie?" "Richie." Duncan's voice was gentle but unrelenting. "With everyone you tell, you take a risk. And not just for you, but for the person you tell, and for all the Immortals in the world. What if she decides to expose us? If she goes to the media, or the police? What would you do then?" "Oh, c'mon, Angie wouldn't do that," Richie protested. "Then what about the next time she bumps into an Immortal, and realizes what he is? What if that Immortal finds out that she knows, and tries to use her against you? You've been in that position more than once; would you want that to happen to her? You want her dragged into the Game, all because you couldn't keep quiet?" "Oh, man." Richie buried his face in his hands. "Maybe -- maybe I don't have to tell her the whole truth. Maybe I could get around it somehow. I mean, for her to be stuck thinking I'm dead . . . it's just not fair!" "It's better this way, Richie. Stay away from her and let her live her own life." "Yeah." Richie stared blindly out the window. "You're right, I guess. You always are." "That's the benefit of my experience," Duncan said lightly. He stood to get a plate from the cupboard. "Here, have some spaghetti. It's still hot." Duncan cleaned his own plate and watched Richie plow through the last of the bowl. "There's something else," he said as Richie finished. "Like what?" Richie mumbled around his last bite. "Another problem?" "Angie came here looking for something she left with you. A safety deposit box key." Richie frowned, puzzled. "She told me exactly where to find it, in the spine of one of your books." Richie's eyes widened and the color drained from his face. "You didn't give it to her, did you?" "What else was I supposed to do? If the box isn't in her name, she won't be able to use it." "It's her box, but my stuff. Oh, shit!" Richie paced the room. "No, wait. Hang on a sec. Maybe this is OK. Angie wouldn't pull something stupid. She's probably just going to return it. She wants the reward." Duncan eyebrows shot up. "What reward?" "It's -- complicated. Did she seem cool about it?" "No, she was nervous. That was what made me suspicious. I saw her get into a car with a couple of men." Richie stiffened. "Mortals?" "Of course. You think an Immortal is involved in this somehow?" "I don't know." Richie thought some more. "Yeah. Yeah, it has to be! They must have traced from me to her somehow, and now they're putting pressure on her. Oh, man, how could I let her in for this?" "Richie, I think you'd better tell me what this is about." "It's Perez." "Domingo Perez?" "Yeah. Remember when I came to move in with you?" Duncan's eyes half-closed in amusement. "Vividly." "Well --" Richie squirmed a little "-- I wasn't completely straight with you." "I guessed that at the time." "Yeah, well, I guess now my sins have returned to haunt me." =========================================================================