Date: Thu, 17 Aug 1995 00:08:12 EDT Reply-To: Russ McMillan Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Russ McMillan Subject: Hold Fast, Part 5b of 8 Nicky Mandrell walked along the pier with his head down and his hands in his pockets. The warehouse he was heading for was at the far end of the pier, but he didn't hurry. Half-heard noises made him stare intently into the shadows, but he never turned to look behind him. The warehouse door was open, and he stepped through quietly, squaring his shoulders. Two men waited there. "Well?" said the taller of the two. "Did it work?" "I think so," said Nicky unhappily. "Good. You've done your part, Nicholas. Stand clear of the door, now." Nicky moved out of the light. "Look, are you really sure --" he began. He was interrupted by the arrival of another man. "Alan, did you get him?" the tall man said urgently. "Of course, Mr. Carver. Davis is bringing him in now." Carver moved closer to the door so that he could see along the pier. Two men were approaching, walking very close together. The first one to enter the warehouse had a cane. The second had a gun. Nicky hunched his shoulders and moved further into the shadows, but he couldn't avoid Joe Dawson's gaze. "Martin," said Dawson calmly. "I should have guessed you had something set up. I couldn't think why you would want to meet the boy all the way out here." "Well, now you know," Carver replied. Joe's eyes took in the empty warehouse, the broken lock on the door. "What next? Are you going to call Macleod and tell him you're holding me hostage, try to drag him into your net?" "Not yet. I have a better location in mind." Carver looked at the man whose gun was nudging Dawson's ribs. "Did you get his car keys?" "Yep." Davis tossed the keys across. "He's parked at the end of the pier." "All right. Nicholas, Alan, you take the car back to the bar and leave it there. Meet us at --" he glanced at Joe "-- the place I showed you this afternoon. Bring the hardware." He gestured to the other two. "Bring him. You're not planning to make any trouble for us, are you Joe?" Dawson shook his head wordlessly, watching sadly as his nephew hurried away to do Carver's bidding. ======================== The phone rang as Duncan stepped out of the shower. Twisting a towel around his waist and throwing his hair over his shoulder, he stepped out of the bathroom. "Don't touch that!" he said sharply to Connor, who was just reaching for the phone. "We don't want anyone to know you're here." He picked up the phone, still glaring at his kinsman. "Hello?" "Macleod?" "Joe? Is something wrong?" "I've got a problem, Duncan." Dawson's voice sounded tense. "I think I'd better let my -- friends explain." A new voice came over the line. "Macleod?" "Yes," said Duncan warily. "_Duncan_ Macleod?" "Yes, who's this?" "This is Martin Carver. We've got your buddy Dawson." The tone was unmistakably threatening. "Dammit, he's one of you!" "No, he's a traitor to humanity. We've been thinking the world would be better off without him, unless you can make us a better offer." "What do you want?" Duncan's voice was tight with fury. "You and your cousin. Unarmed." Duncan grimaced at the discovery that the Hunters knew Connor was with him. "Two for one? What guarantee do I get?" "You'll just have to trust us. One hour. 922 South Burroughs." The line went dead. Duncan closed his eyes and pressed his fist to his forehead. "What is it?" said Connor warily. "Hunters. The same ones who were after you. They have Joe. They're threatening to kill him." "Would they?" "He seemed worried. Dammit! I should have thought of this." "That's right," Connor agreed. "It's the oldest trick in the book." "I'm used to Richie being threatened, and -- and Tessa, and my other friends, but not this. I never thought Hunters would go after Joe. He's family to them!" "Apparently family isn't as important to them as it is to you and me," said Connor dryly. Duncan met his kinsman's gaze, and slowly his frown eased. "Right. Time to start thinking about how to deal with this." He pressed a speed dial button on the phone, frowning when there was no prompt answer. "Richie, if you're there, pick up," he said after the machine answered. "Listen, Richie, we've got a situation and I need backup. Meet me and Connor at 922 South Burroughs as soon as you can. We have got an appointment there at midnight." He hung up the phone and glared at its impassive plastic surface. "The kid's not there?" Connor prodded. "No. I don't know where he could be, unless he's on his way over here." "Well, we've got time to wait for him while we get ready." Duncan slammed fist into palm. "Five Hunters. I could really use Richie's help." "You've got me." Duncan glared at his clansman. "You are going to stay out of the fight." "No I'm not." "Yes you are!" "Duncan, you can be as protective as you want about your students and your friends, but don't try to pull that on me." "Oh, and I suppose you weren't trying to protect me the last time you came to Seattle?" "No." "No?" Duncan set his hands on his hips. Connor grinned. "That was just an excuse for me to punch you out." Duncan looked as if he would like to return the favor. "Look, the whole point of this is to keep you away from the Hunters." "The point is to avoid anyone being hurt unnecessarily, like your friend Dawson. They asked for me, didn't they?" "I wasn't thinking of hostage exchange!" "You should think of it. It's just the thing to distract them while we all try to get away safely." Duncan turned and paced the room, thinking . . . and remembering. ======================= Duncan slung the brace of hares over his shoulder and turned toward home, stepping lightly over the springy heather. Whatever had spurred Connor's strange mood this morning, he could not fail to be pleased at the prospect of freshly stewed meat for dinner. Since he had already circled back partway, it wasn't long before Duncan saw the jutting stair of the ruined castle, and the thatch of Connor's small house next to it. As he took breath to call a greeting, a strange glow seemed to rise from the ruins, and lightning flashed without a cloud in sight. A man's voice screamed in pain. Half the remaining steps crumbled to the ground. A strange queasiness cramped Duncan's gut as he groped for his sword. Bent nearly double, he began to run. He found Connor lying half-buried in the rubble, blood flowing from a deep cut in his side. Duncan heaved rocks out of the way. "What happened?" he cried. Connor waved weakly at a body lying among the stones. Several feet of dusty space lay between the shoulders and the staring head. Duncan caught his breath. He had never seen another Immortal aside from Connor, and sometimes he had wondered if this tale of a Game and a Prize could possibly be true. Here was the grim reality before him. The man had fancy foreign garb, and two Italian swords lay near his hands. "That's the stranger Ewen warned us about last night, the one who was looking for you." Duncan turned accusingly upon Connor. "You knew he would come today! Why did you send me off hunting?" Connor shrugged. Color was returning to his face. "The rules say the fight has to be one on one." "I could have seconded you, made sure he didn't pull any tricks!" "I wasn't sure if I could beat him," Connor admitted. "Well, then I could have avenged you!" Connor chuckled. "You would have died. You're not that good yet." Duncan's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. "I've lived through more than one battle, Connor MacLeod!" "Aye, and died in one, too." "Dammit, Connor, I'm a grown man. I can make my own decisions, and take my own risks!" Connor lurched to his feet. "Someday you'll return the favor." Duncan's jaw jutted. "I'd not serve you so. I respect you too well. Better than you respect me, I see." Jamming his sword into its scabbard, he stalked away. ======================= Duncan sighed. "All right. You'll come along. Two is better than one. But we're going to have a good plan worked out before we go." The two started discussing strategy and gathering what they would need, but there was still no sign of Richie when it came time for them to leave. Duncan was worried. "I can't believe he'd just go off on his own somewhere when he knows we might need him any minute. I hope he isn't in some kind of trouble." "What kind of trouble could he possibly be in?" Connor asked. Then, chuckling at Duncan's glare, he added, "Don't worry about him. My first student was a reckless fool too, but he got over it." "Thanks a lot," Duncan growled. He hoisted their equipment on his shoulder, gave one more worried glance at the phone, and led the way out of the loft. ========================== =========================================================================