Date: Fri, 1 Jul 1994 21:06:13 -0600 Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Richard Carter Subject: Is There Something... (2 of 4) "Michele!" Tessa beckoned in impatient frustration as she was struggling to lift a life-sized red marble bust of an eighteenth century warrior onto its black, wooden, rectangular pedestal. The gallery was in the middle of being reorganized to best show off the (mostly) salable collection of a generous patron. While almost all of the stock had been uncrated, most of it was sitting on the floor next to some sort of stand, or leaning against a newly refinished white wall near where it would be finally mounted. Tessa was situated several meters from the entrance, toward the right side of the room. Next to her was the reception desk. Leading straight back from that was a hallway that serviced the offices and storerooms. The rest of the space, all of it to the left of anyone entering, was filled with the usual maze of walls for display. "Michele!?" Still no answer. "_Merde_." With disgust serving as the fuel for her strength, Tessa succeeded in lifting the sculpture near to the height necessary to seat it onto the pedestal. With just one more centimeter remaining, she felt her strength flagging. But she didn't want to stop now, not when she was so close. Her face was beginning to show the signs of her stress and fatigue. She wasn't certain if she'd heard the door to the gallery open, or if the strain she was under had made her think she was hearing the bell ring. She decided to make one last try. She took a deep breath and -- Suddenly the bust seemed to fly out of her hands and land effortlessly on its stand. Tessa opened her eyes in surprise, and saw a man in a stylish leather jacket standing in front of her, his hands only just removing themselves from the base of the bust. It took a moment for everything to coalesce in her mind. "Duncan!" "I hope you don't mind, but your face was turning an unusual shade of red, and I thought you might want some help." "Thank you," was all Tessa could manage as she leaned against a nearby building support to rest. "Are you alright?" "Yes. I'm just a little tired." "You should have asked for some help with lifting something so heavy." "I did. It's just that--" "Tessa," interrupted Michele's voice, "_voulez vous_..." Michele entered from the hallway, and interrupted himself at the sight of Duncan. The two men could have been brothers. Both stood about two meters tall, both were well-tanned, had handsome faces and builds, and both sported a ponytail of dark hair. The only difference was that Michele looked to be perhaps ten years older. "Michele, this is Duncan MacLeod. Duncan, this is Michele Toussaint," Tessa volunteered. "_Bonjour_," Michele said as he extended his hand, which Duncan accepted. "_Bonjour_." "Ah, yes-- you're the man who jumped into Tessa's _bateau_ the other day." "That's right," Duncan replied. "How can I help you?" "Duncan is buying antiques for his store," Tessa said now that she'd recovered sufficiently to contribute to the conversation. "That's true. And I'd like to talk to you about that, sometime. However, I really came by to ask Tessa if she wanted to...get some coffee or something." A smile grew on Michele's lips, "Of course." He turned to Tessa, "If you want to go, then go and enjoy yourself." "But it's not time to--" Michele interrupted her again, "The sun is going down which means that it's time for you two to enjoy the evening." As Tessa was about to protest again, he added, "Shhh. I'll close early; it will be a lovely excuse for me to spend some time with Jeanne." Tessa approached Michele, and reached up to give him an appreciative peck on the cheek. "_Merci_." She then turned to Duncan, "I don't think we can go anywhere too fancy with the way I look." "You look great," Duncan said. "I guess we can go to the cafe." "That will be fine. But first," Duncan focused his attention on Michele, "I'd like to use a phone? Something private, if possible? I need to attend to a couple of business matters." Michele replied, "There's one in the office. Down that hall, first door on your left." "Thanks," Duncan offered, then turned to Tessa, "I won't be but a few minutes." "Take your time. In fact, I can meet you there. Maybe have something hot waiting for you?" "That sounds good." "What would you like?" Duncan let there be a lingering pause while he had a slight smirk on his face before saying, "Surprise me." Duncan then smiled and winked at her before turning and exiting down the hall. Turning to Michele, Tessa asked, "Well? What do you think?" "It's kind of hard to get to know someone in only a few minutes." Tessa glared at him, knowing all too well that Michele was playing a game with her. Michele continues, "I think your papa will approve." "We're just going out for coffee." "That's not what his eyes say. Nor yours." Tessa gave Michele a warm smile before she opened the door to go. As she closed the door behind her, Michele walked to the bank of switches, and proceeded to turn out the lights in the gallery. While he was on the phone, on hold, Duncan made a quick examination of the office. There was a desk covered with books and letters; the token bookcase filled with art books; and all around, piled floor to ceiling, were numerous portfolio cases and boxes of slide carousel trays. This gallery apparently was much sought after. Michele poked his head in the door, "I see you found the phone ok." "Yeah, thanks." "I'm going to be locking up. So, when you're done, you can just leave out the back. Down this hall, turn right, and out the door. Turn right and the cafe is just a half block away." "Got it. Thanks." "No problem," Michele said before exiting. Duncan finally got taken off hold, "Yes, this is Duncan MacLeod for _Monsieur_--," Duncan froze. A not unfamiliar feeling struck him, an ancient sense of threat shared by his kind. There was definitely an Immortal nearby. But where? Duncan had left his sword, the Immortal's weapon of choice, at his apartment. He quickly looked around the office again, this time for something he might be able to use to defend himself. But, unless he was willing to sever his opponent's head via thousands of paper cuts, this room wasn't going to provide anything useful. He hung up the phone. When Michele heard the bell on the front door ring, he rushed out to inform the patron that the gallery was closed. He could see the silhouette of a man holding something long in his left hand. The figure yelled in a continental accent, "MacLeod! I know you're here. I saw you enter!" Michele cautiously approached the man and said, "Excuse me. But--" With the eerie silence of an owl's wing beat, the razor sharp rapier of the mysterious man swung around and Michele was rendered permanently speechless. The mystery man was pleased with himself as he looked down at the severed head. "I got you, MacLeod. I got you. There can be only one." "Not this time," MacLeod remarked. The mystery man looked up, and saw what appeared to be Duncan MacLeod standing in a doorway. He then looked down at the severed head, and back up again at MacLeod. "You killed the owner of this gallery. A mortal." "Damn. I ruined a perfectly good pair of shoes, too. These mortals bleed a lot." "Who are you?" Duncan asked as he carefully stepped into the reception area. Now he could see the opposing immortal's face. It was almost delicate looking. The deep pox scars being the only distraction from the otherwise feminine lines. "Pardon me for being so rude. Traynor Kent, at your service. And you are Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. I've heard so much about you." "Should I be flattered?" "I'd rather you be dead," Traynor spat as he moved quickly toward the Scotsman. Duncan was ready for him. As they were talking, he had maneuvered himself near the bust that Tessa had so much trouble with earlier. Duncan grabbed it and threw the statue at Traynor, catching him squarely in the chest. The weight of the piece not only knocked Traynor to the floor, it also momentarily pinned him down. Duncan used this opportunity to retreat. He ran down the hallway, and proceeding as Michele had instructed him earlier, he found his way outside. Traynor rolled the bust off of himself. He was ready to chase down Duncan, but the sharp pain in his side kept him down. He knew the feeling of broken ribs, and was suddenly keenly aware that at least two of his had fractured. "Another time, MacLeod!" Traynor yelled before giving in to a fit of painful coughs. Slowly, he got up and walked to the front door. Noticing that he was leaving blood-colored footprints, he wiped the soles of his shoes clean on the carpet before leaving the shop. Duncan was poised to climb up the scaffolding that a crew had left beside a building being repainted, but was relieved that he didn't have to. The sense of an Immortal being nearby left him. For the time being, he was safe. Besides, he still had a date with Tessa. At the cafe, Tessa was just getting up from her seat to leave when Duncan arrived. "I was beginning to wonder if--," she started. "I know," Duncan interrupted, "I had something come up that I hadn't anticipated." "So, are you finished?" "No, but it will wait for another time." "Good. Now I've got you all to myself." "For as long as you want." * * * Tessa hadn't felt so rested in months. Duncan exercised her brain as well as invigorated her body the previous night. To her, he felt like the one she had been waiting for: the man with whom she'd spend the rest of her life. She quietly got up from her bed, her nightshirt providing warmth against the morning Parisian chill. As was her usual morning practice, she walked barefooted in her apartment. This morning was a little different than normal, though, and she tried to avoid the creaky floorboard stationed just outside her bedroom. No luck. It announced her entrance into the room with a proud and joyous fanfare. Duncan stirred from his sleep. "Tessa?" "Good morning." "Good morning," a barechested Duncan replied as he forgot where he was and rolled off her sofa, narrowly missing an easel near his feet. A giggle rose in Tessa's throat aimed at the handsome, cock- sure man showing some frailty. "Can I make you some coffee?" she asked. "Please." Tessa went to the kitchen, or rather the nook that served as a kitchen, and quickly loaded the automatic coffee maker. "It'll be a few minutes." "That's fine," Duncan replied. She sat back on the couch and began to rebutton his shirt. In the light of day, a quick survey of the studio apartment revealed that Tessa was quite a talented young artist. On scattered easels were sketches and paintings in progress. On the more numerous tables were sculptures of various materials, and of contemporary and classical styles, in different stages of completion. Still, despite the artists' materials covering most of the available space, the apartment seemed roomy and uncluttered. The only concession to privacy was a partition that served as a wall to form a sleeping/dressing area near the tiny bathroom. "Thanks again for letting me spend the night." "I let you stay in my apartment, not in my bed." "Now, would that have been so bad?" Duncan asked boyishly. Tessa had to admit to herself that it wouldn't have been bad at all. It's what she wanted, but from past experience knew it to be the wrong thing to do -- at least with this kind of man. "I hope the sofa wasn't too uncomfortable." "I've slept on worse in my day." Duncan couldn't help smiling to himself about her evasiveness. "After our coffee, I'll get out of your hair so you can get ready for work." "You don't have to rush off on my account." "Yes I do," or else I'll take you right here, he thought. "Besides, I have some business to attend to. I should probably get to my apartment and freshen up," Duncan replied. In truth, with another immortal after his head, he felt very vulnerable without his sword. "As long as it's something important." "It is." The coffee maker beeped to indicate that it had completed its task. Tessa pulled down two sturdy mugs from the cabinet over the machine, and into each of them she poured a hearty serving of black coffee. Tessa handed Duncan one of the mugs. She lifted hers in a toast, "_Carpe diem_." "_Que sera, sera_," Duncan replied. "I love that movie," Tessa gushed, "_The Man Who Knew Too Much_." "You like Hitchcock?" "Um-hmm," she affirmed while taking a sip of her drink. * * * Duncan arrived at his apartment and immediately went to the rack hanging near the large bookcase and grabbed his sword. A katana made in the Masamune style. An old Japanese sword of the finest caliber. Just holding it in his hand gave him a sense of great relief. Tessa couldn't stop humming the old Doris Day tune Duncan had reminded her of as she reached the entrance to the gallery. The door was unlocked. Apparently Michele had managed to make it in before her, for once. When she opened the door, she was greeted by an unfamiliar smell. It made her stomach want to turn. Looking down, she could see dark footprints leading from the display area to the doorway. Why were they there? And there was the marble bust lying on the floor. "Michele?" she queried. It only took a couple of steps into the store for Tessa to see Michele's fate. A little less than a meter away from his body was Michele's head. It was lying face up, and the eyes were open in a grotesque look of surprise. Tessa felt her head swimming. Someone had come in and killed Michele. Not just killed, but decapitated. Who? Why? If only she hadn't left early... maybe Michele would still be alive. Somehow, through her fog of shock, she managed to shuffle over to the phone on the desk to place a call to the police. Duncan had changed into silk pants. His torso was starting to acquire a sheen of perspiration from the tai chi exercises he did to help clear his head and which served as a warm-up for the more strenuous skills practice he was about to start. When Traynor appeared again, Duncan was going to be ready. "I don't know, sometime around five," Tessa replied in French to the blue-clad police officer, whose jacket buttons were straining under the force of too many long lunches. "Excuse me," the officer said and stepped over to the trench coat-clad detective presiding over the investigation. Tessa thought she was going to be sick as the stretcher holding Michele's body was wheeled past where she was standing. The detective approached her. "You said the deceased was here with another man when you left?" "Yes. Duncan MacLeod." "Can you get ahold of him?" -- CJ cj@rt66.com -or- richard.carter@loebbs.com =========================================================================