Date: Wed, 18 Oct 1995 08:37:10 -0400 Reply-To: Mike Breen Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Mike Breen Subject: REVENGE AND REBIRTH I - The Dragon's Sword (part 3) Language, violence, etc. Mostly language, actually. CAMBRIDGE AND BOSTON, MASS, UNITED STATES - OCTOBER, 1995 Bernard sat in his small office listening to Glen Miller and studying one of the Watcher databases. He had called up the "area" listings and punched up "United States, Massachusetts, Boston." The computer and modem churned for a few seconds before producing this on the screen: COUNTRY: UNITED STATES CITY/STATE: Boston, Massachusetts IMMORTALS : O'Brien, Patrick O'Brien, Rebecca DeJeniere O'Riley, Matthew Peters, Nancy Ramus, Mario Stink VonHoffer, Kurdt Ah ha, Bernard thought. So VonHoffer was in town with his minions in tow. VonHoffer was without a doubt Patrick's greatest enemy. He was Kurgan to Patrick's Connor MacLeod or Kalas to Patrick's Duncan MacLeod. Patrick was in for some rough times ahead. The second to last name caught his attention. He clicked on "Stink" and the following information was presented to him much the same format as the CD that had scared them all, minus the photo: NAME ???? ALIAS Stink DATE September 28, 1995 LOCATION Boston, Massachusetts OCCUPATION Street Gang Leader WATCHER John McKinley REMARKS "Stink" was discovered by Kurdt VonHoffer on September 28th, 1995. His real name is unknown. He was the leader of a street gang before being shot by VonHoffer and made Immortal. He could still be in the gang, though it seems that VonHoffer has taken him in. As I have been assigned VonHoffer and, by extension, his employees Mario Ramus and Matthew O'Riley, I will take up the task of Watching this newest Immortal as well. --- J McK. Bernard smiled. Not many Watchers could take Watching someone like VonHoffer for very long, but his pupil John McKinley had proven himself admirably. He was proud of him, as proud as an Immortal is of his own Student... There was a knock on his door. Bernard activated his password-protected screen saver and said, "Come on in." A young man entered with a grocery bag. "Bernard!" he said. "Johnny McKinley!" Bernard said. "I was hoping you'd show eventually with VonHoffer in town. Sit down. Sit down. Whatcha got in the bag?" McKinley sat and pulled out a six-pack of Samuel Adams larger beer. "I haven't had Sam Adams for five years, and I wanted to share a six-pack with my old Mentor." He took out two bottles and handed one to Bernard. He pointed at the stereo speakers and said, "Miller?" "You remembered. I'm glad." "Usually you listen to Dizzy." "And I would have been disappointed if you assumed that this was Dizzy. How've you been?" "Great, just great. This Watcher stuff is easier than I thought it would be. Aside from having to make money in rather creative ways, I'm getting along great." Bernard laughed. "How's our man O'Brien?" McKinley said. "He couldn't be better lately. You remember from his bios Rebecca DeJeniere? They married this past summer." "He didn't marry that mortal girl... Michelle something?" "Taylor? No. She left for Seattle and took a job with Microsoft back in January." "Seattle, huh? What happened? They seemed like the perfect couple." "She witnessed the Quickening after Patrick..." "Patrick?" McKinley said. "Since when are you two on a first-name basis?" "Come on, Johnny," Bernard said, "you can't tell me that you don't think of VonHoffer as 'Kurdt' sometimes." "Well..." "Allright then. She witnessed the Quickening after _O'Brien_ took Highsmith's head. He was working for your man, wasn't he?" McKinley nodded. He said, "He was scouting out the area and O'Brien's lifestyle. Judging from their past histories, Kurdt... er... VonHoffer knew that Highsmith would be an ideal tool to knock O'Brien back into the game, and he also knew that Highsmith wouldn't win." "Why bother?" Bernard said. "Patrick had been out of the Game for ten years. Why didn't VonHoffer just come himself and take his head easily?" "If I were to fathom a guess I'd say it's for the challenge. O'Brien owes VonHoffer something." "But VonHoffer owes O'Brien something as well. Though what it is I don't know." "In any event, if you wanted revenge against someone, wouldn't you want them to put up a fight? Wouldn't you _want_ to beat them fair and square?" "I suppose," Bernard said. "A double?" Nancy said. "An exact double?" "Yup," Patrick said as he set the table in the dining room, "Except she's a bit taller. Yi was positively tiny. Seeing Elaine yesterday only re-enforced it. Last week I thought it could have been the sake that I had drunk, but when she came down to the dojo yesterday... you'll be able to meet her, Nancy. She and her husband are coming down tonight for dinner." "And I don't have a date," Nancy said. "Relax," Rebecca said, "Joe's coming down too." "Oh great," Nancy said. "My date's an 1800 year old samurai. He's a bit too old for me." "It's better off that you don't have a date," Patrick said. "There's gonna be a lot of Immortal speak tonight. Elaine made me promise that if she signed up for my fencing class I'd tell her the story behind my sword. It seems that there was a sword in her family that had originated in Japan and was lost about four and a half centuries ago." "So how does _your_ sword tie into all this?" "My sword is her family sword." "And that means that she's one of Yi's descendants." "Uh huh. Yi had a daughter from a previous marriage. Her first husband died before I met her." Nancy became thoughtful. Then she said, "How often does this happen? Doubles?" "Less than you would think," Patrick said. "Sure there's a lot of people who 'are the spitting image' of their father or mother, which is how we can get away with hiding our true nature out in the open. I just say I'm my own grandson, or son, or nephew. But to get an exact double of someone... the genetics have to come together just right, and that grows less likely with each generation." "And what about the sword?" Rebecca said. "I intend on returning it to her. It's _her_ family's sword, after all." "Now wait a minute," Nancy said. "You've carried that sword for four and a half centuries. Doesn't that count for something?" Patrick sighed and said, "Yes Yi's father gave it to me. Yes he used the words 'this is your sword now.' But the fact remains that it's _her_ family's sword, and for me to keep it would be to dishonor the blade, her family, _and_ the memory of Yi." "And what do you intend on carrying, hmm?" Rebecca said. "The sword that Ramirez called a 'clumsy hunk of Irish iron?'" "There's other katanas in the world, of just as good quality." "But there's only one of _that_ sword," Nancy said. "When you gave me my sword at Connor's shop, the _first_ thing you told me was to make it part of me. I've seen Connor with Ramirez's blade and with the same hilt but a different blade, and I could _tell_ it was different. While you... your sword _is_ part of you." Patrick was silent. "The samurai didn't have _this_ in mind when they forged that sword," Rebecca said. "Maybe not," Patrick said. "Besides," Rebecca continued, "_you_ are part of her family. You have just as much, if not more, right to that sword as she does." "Maybe you're right," Patrick said, "but I _have_ to offer it to her. If I didn't... I wouldn't feel right about fighting with it ever again." Rebecca sighed and said, "You are such a stubborn fucking Celt and too much of a samurai." "I hear you had a close one a few months back," McKinley said. "Yeah," Bernard said. "You OK?" "Yeah." "According to the Watcher files O'Brien rescued you." "Yeah." "How did you... and keep our secret?" "I... I couldn't," Bernard said sheepishly. "He _knows_ about us?" "What was I supposed to do?" Bernard said. "He had figured it out before it all happened anyway." McKinley was silent. "Look, I'm not gonna sit here and be judged by _you_ of all people." "I didn't come here to judge you, Bernard. I just..." "Horton started a chain reaction, Johnny. When he killed Darius he did far more damage to our organization than he bargained on. It doesn't take much to put two and two together. Darius dies on Holy Ground. _No_ Immortal kills on Holy Ground so that leaves mortals. Once you know that some mortals know about Immortals, our organization's existence becomes obvious. Rebecca found us, she told O'Brien, who told Ammamoto. And Duncan MacLeod no doubt has told a number of Immortals including Connor MacLeod, Amanda, and Carl Robinson. The damage was done, Johnny, and all we can do is either ignore it or try to use it. Yes, O'Brien is a friend of mine. Yes, he knows I'm a Watcher. And yes, before you ask, sometimes I _do_ give him information, but _not_ enough to tip the scales one way or the other. I'll occasionally tell him if someone is in town, and I told him about the CDRom. But I will _not_ interfere in an Immortal duel. I owe him my life. He killed his own Student for me. Do you know what that must have been like?" "Would have been like if you had to kill me." "It would be like if I had to kill one of my kids. And you know that you always were like a son to me. My point is, if I can repay him in a small way I will." McKinley nodded. "And how long do you think our organization can remain secret, especially with new Immortals like Nancy Peters or Richie Ryan knowing from the start that we exist?" Stink stood on the common near the spot where Bernard played his sax during the day, watching the O'Brien townhouse. He saw a tall Asian man, dressed completely in black, with a black trenchcoat, walk down the street. Stink was standing just outside of what VonHoffer called the "buzz range." Or so he thought. The Asian man stopped before climbing the stairs to the stoop and looked in his direction. Stink could feel him as well. He began to back away, keeping his eyes on the house, and hopefully keeping out of sight. Eventually the feeling stopped and the Asian man walked into the house. Damn! Stink thought. That was a close one. "Come in," Nancy said to Joe. "Let me hang your coat." Joe looked slightly perturbed at that. Nancy said, "Don't worry, Joe. I'll be careful with your sword." Joe sighed and said, "Very well, Nancy." He took his coat off and handed it to her. Then he walked into the living room and said, "There's an Immortal outside, Patrick." Patrick said, "I know. He's obviously a new one and either thinks he's standing outside buzz-range or he doesn't know what the buzz is." "He knows what it is, because when our Quickening began to interact he backed away." "Interesting," Patrick said. "I think someone sent him." "Yes. I agree." "The question is who." "The Immortals in the limo?" Rebecca said. "I wouldn't bet money against such a sure thing," Patrick said. "The question still remains though, who were they?" "Rather far outside of your territory, Stink." Stink whirled around with fists clenched and faced detective Frank D'Gornio. He said, "Aw man. I ain't done _nothing_." "Yet," D'Gornio said. "What're you doing here?" "Can't a guy just stand around without being rousted?" "Not a guy who's a known street gang leader." "I'm through with all that," Stink said. "I'm not even wearing my colors." "Don't give me that, Stink. I was watching you. You got scared when that Oriental guy stopped in front of that house. I should take you in just on that..." "You don't have nothing on me and you know it. Now get off my back, _detective_." "Listen you disrespectful little fuck," D'Gornio said, "I'm watching you. And the second you step out of line I'm hauling your ass down to the station. Got it?" "Got it." "Good." Detective D'Gornio turned away from Stink and walked towards Beacon street. He made a show of walking up to the house and writing the address down. He'd go back to the station before heading home, run the address, and see what was so special about it. Stink saw detective D'Gornio write the address down. Shit, he thought. Wonderful. VonHoffer will kill my ass for bringing the police into this. John McKinley had left Bernard's office and arrived at the common just in time to see the police detective (he was obviously a detective from the look of him) hassle Stink. He smiled. Perfect. Everything was going according to plan. "You know that there's now a police detective outside writing your address down?" Joe said. "Oh?" "Uh huh. Things are getting remarkably interesting." "Don't remind me of that Chinese curse, Joe." "Joe," Rebecca said. "What do you think of Patrick's idea of giving his sword to Elaine?" "It's the proper thing to do." "What??!!" "To do otherwise would..." "I know. It would dishonor the sword, himself, Yi's memory, and a few dozen other things. You're not helping me here." "Rebecca you should not take these things so lightly," Joe said. "I know, but it's so damn annoying." "If Elaine has _any_ samurai blood left in her," Joe said, "she won't accept it, for to do so would also be a dishonor. It is not the results of the act that matter, Rebecca, but the act itself." "And what if she accepts it?" Joe was silent. Two people walked towards the house now. A White man and an Asian woman. They were both young, and walked hand-in-hand. They knocked on the door and the "though guy" answered it. They walked in. Stink felt nothing from either of them, something that VonHoffer said proved the essential inferiority of mortals, but he _did_ feel the tough guy. Somehow, Stink felt the two mortals were _important_. This was what VonHoffer sent him down here to find out. He would sit on the parkbench and wait until they came out, and follow them home. Bernard wrestled with his conscious. He couldn't get Johnny's parting words out of his head, "I always admired you, and wanted to be like you. But now... you've crossed the line. The first thing you told me was the Watchers and Immortals couldn't be friends. They mustn't. If I told you I wasn't disappointed in you I'd be lieing." And he was right. He'd crossed the line and allowed a friendship to develop between not only he and Patrick, but he and Rebecca and Nancy as well. But on the other hand, the damage was done. And VonHoffer was here. His mind went back to the day two weeks ago when the limo, obviously VonHoffer's, parked in front of Patrick's house. Patrick already knew there was an Immortal in town. If he told him it was VonHoffer... He'd be crossing that line again. Hell, he owed him his _life_. That was something he could never, ever, repay. He should _erase_ that line. He should tear it up and throw it out. He shut the computer off and left his office. They all sat at the table. Patrick sat at the head of the table, Joe sat on his right, Nancy sat next to him, Elaine sat to his left and Rick sat next to her. Rebecca brought out a pan of lasagna and one of manacotti. "Smells wonderful," Elaine said. "Thanks," Rebecca said. "After eight and a half centuries it kinda becomes automatic. I could cook this stuff up in my sleep. Dig in." She sat at the opposite head. Everyone helped themselves to the pasta and meatballs. Rick said, "When Elaine came home and told me what she'd found out, I thought she was crazy." "Until you saw Joe turn me into shiskabab," Patrick said. "Exactly," Rick said. "So how did it happen? And why?" "Well," Patrick said, "The how is easy. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was killed defending my village from a Norman overlord. The Normans had conquered Ireland a century after they conquered England, and assigned overlords to take over each district. We didn't want to yield so we fought them. One of them ran me through the back with his sword and I died. When I recovered I was called a 'changeling' and accused of being an evil breed of fairie folk. There was a man in the village who had been training all of us farmers to become swordsmen, who, I found out, was Immortal. He took me in and trained me. He became my Teacher, guardian, and surrogate father. He died in 1533 defending another Student from the most evil of all the Immortals." Rebecca said, "I was killed by bandits. They tried to rob my village in France. They took a look at me and decided I would be fun to toss around, but I fought them. They decided to kill me rather than put up with me. Fortunately the people in my village thought I hadn't been mortally wounded and just assumed my miraculous recovery was normal, but _I_ knew something had happened to me. I was later found by the same Immortal as Patrick and told what I had become." Joe said, "I, too, was killed in battle, by a rival samurai. After I revived, I thought I was cursed by the gods for not allowing me to die an honorable death. Later, I had found a legendary Immortal sorcerer and samurai who told me what I was." Nancy looked rather embarrised. She said, "My story seems boring compared to all yours. I was killed by a drunk driver." "That's the how," Patrick said. "As for the why... no one knows. Maybe we are changelings and fairie folk. Who knows. All we _do_ know is that it's a kind of magic." Later, dinner had been eaten and cleared away and they sat around chatting. A knock came at the door, Patrick excused himself and answered it. Bernard stood on the stoop. "Come on in, Bernard. I was just about to tell some new friends how I got my sword. You may find it interesting." "Can we talk?" Bernard said. "Alone?" "Sure," he ushered the Watcher inside. "We'll just be a few minutes," he said to his guests. They went downstairs into the now empty workout room. Bernard looked at Patrick then looked away. Then he said, "Aw hell. VonHoffer's in town." "Oh?" Patrick's fists clenched. "He is, is he?" "I know he's a hated enemy, but I don't know what it is he did to you. That information isn't in the Watcher database." Patrick inhaled deeply, turned away from Bernard, and said, "There's nothing I can do now. Eventually he'll send someone after me..." "He already has. Rupert Highsmith... he was working for VonHoffer." At that Patrick's head snapped around. "How do you know that?" "My protege is VonHoffer's Watcher." "Protege?" "Yup. You see _we_ have a student-teacher system much like yours." Patrick nodded and said, "So what did your Student say?" "He said simply that. He sent Highsmith to knock you back into the Game. He doesn't want to fight you if you're rusty." "No, that'll never do." "He also sent him because he's the ideal tool, given your past histories. I don't know how or when Highsmith became involved with VonHoffer, but I suppose I could find out." "Don't bother," Patrick said. "What's done is done. Thank you, Bernard." "You do have to prepare for him, don't you?" "If he's coming for me, and obviously he is, he'll send someone in his place at first, someone like Highsmith, who I can defeat but who can put up a good fight. Damnit." Patrick looked upstairs. "What?" "VonHoffer's sent one of his minions to watch the house, a young Immortal who has no concept of the 'buzz range.' And then there's Elaine and Rick. _No_ one is safe who knows me. VonHoffer will try to use them. _You're_ not safe, either. Though he probably doesn't know about Watchers. If he did he'd probably be using them towards his own ends." Bernard got a cold feeling in his gut. Patrick noticed his discomfort and said, "Bernard?" "I just thought... naw..." "What, Bernard? Anything _any_thing, no matter how small or unlikely, will help." "I just got a horrible feeling that maybe Johnny..." "Johnny?" "My protege. John McKinley. I got a thought that maybe he and VonHoffer are like you and I." Patrick leaned against the wall, folded his hands, and placed his two index fingers against his lips. He thought for a full minute before saying, "How likely is this? Just how common is our relationship?" "As far as I know, not very. Dawson and Duncan MacLeod... Amanda knows about Watchers, but her's died recently. Kalas knew about us, of course. Carl Robinson knew. Michael Christian knew his Watcher." "Lemee rephrase it," Patrick said, unfolding his hands and placing them in his pockets. "How many Watchers know about you and I." "Just Dawson. And Johnny." "I know why Dawson knows," Patrick said, recalling the time last spring when Joe Dawson had come to Boston to assist Bernard in his own crisis of a blown cover. Dawson had ended up helping Patrick locate Bernard after Samuel Leonard had kidnapped him. Patrick couldn't honestly say he liked Dawson. The Watcher had come off as arrogant, short-tempered, and gruff, but his demeanor could have been the result of the crisis at hand. Patrick _could_ tell that Dawson was a good man and one of his word. He would not tell anyone of Patrick and Bernard's relationship for the simple reason that it was similar to his and MacLeod's. Patrick then said, "Why did you tell this Johnny?" "He asked how I was able to keep our secret after..." "Yeah, I know. Can you trust him to keep it a secret?" "I don't know. I used to think he could, but he told me that he was disappointed in me." "Bernard... how likely is it that a good percentage of Watchers have already been found out after the business with Darius and Horton?" "I don't know, really. It's _possible_ that everyone's been compromised. Not many Immortals _don't_ know how Darius died. When you know we exist, we're easy to find." "_If_ VonHoffer and your protege have become allies..." "Chances are he wouldn't tell me, for two reasons. If he and VonHoffer are friends then he'd obviously want him to win. And if he _was_ found out he would want it to be kept secret. It _is_ possible that all of our secrets have been compromised, and it's also possible that no one will admit it for fear of being reported. We could have the illusion of being a secret society without being very secret, and not even knowing that the illusion wasn't reality." Patrick sighed and said, "We could talk circles like this all night. Come upstairs. I was just about to tell everyone a story that I think you'll enjoy for the archives." Detective Frank D'Gornio punched the address on what he called the "damn machine." It spat back at him that the house on Beacon Street belonged to a Patrick O'Brien, who inherited it from his uncle Sean, who inherited it from his father, also named Patrick, who had been killed at Normandy. The name sounded familiar. He had one of the records cops look for any incident involving this O'Brien and bring it up to the squadroom. Several minutes later a uniformed records cop brought him a file with an 8x10" photo of Patrick O'Brien. "Remember that Brinks robbery back in February?" the records cop said. "Yeah," D'Gornio said. "He was the college professor that took a bullet and caught one of the perps." "What the hell kind of college professor literally single-handedly apprehends a criminal?" "That's not all, Detective," the uniform cop said. "He was also involved in foiling a terrorist plot to blow up the Kennedy Federal Building in 1988." "I remember that. It was kept out of the papers. The terrorist disappeared, didn't he?" "Not exactly. They fished his headless corpse out of the Charles two months later. His head had washed out of the river three days before they found the body. His head had been found near..." "Lemee guess. Harvard University. And they found the body also near Harvard." "Yup. Caught against the footbridge." "Anything else on this guy?" "Not a thing. Aside from those two incidents, he's clean." D'Gornio looked at the photo. "He doesn't _look_ like a college professor. He looks more like military. Unfortunately, we can't exactly call the FBI or the CIA and say, 'I was just curious, does one of your guys live on Beacon Hill, and was his cover a college professor?'" "Unfortunately not. What're you gonna do about this guy?" "I'll inform him about Stink tomorrow, but aside from that there's nothing I _can_ do." VonHoffer looked out the window at the night spread out below him and smiled. "Good work as usual John," he said. "Thank you Kurdt," McKinley said. "I'm sure you have more to give me than merely the fact that Willis and O'Brien are more than Watcher and Immortal." He turned away from the window. "Yes. Michelle Taylor is in Redmond, Washington working for Microsoft." "_Good_ work, John. How did you manage that one?" "I asked Bernard. O'Brien had started seeing Michelle right before my training had ended. He told me that O'Brien and Rebecca had gotten married. I asked what happened to Michelle and he _volunteered_ the information." VonHoffer laughed, quietly. Then he said, "Usually your information comes in threes, John. What else?" "I watched Stink at O'Brien's house. You were right about the police paying him special attention. A plainclothes detective gave him a hard time and took down O'Brien's address." "And he'll wonder about the three headless corpses that he's going to find over the next few months. Find out who he is and what precinct he works in. We'll set up all our little duels in his territory. Where is O'Riley now?" McKinley handed VonHoffer a slip of paper and said, "This was the number he gave me. It's a Manhattan area code." VonHoffer handed McKinley the paper back again and said, "Book him on the first flight out of New York to Seattle and send the tickets to wherever that phone number is. I want Michelle here next week." McKinley nodded and turned to leave. "Can you hack into the Microsoft employee database with that?" VonHoffer indicated McKinley's laptop. "No, unfortunately the Microsoft database is too sophisticated for that." "Unfortunate. O'Riley may not be smart, but he's no dummy. He'll find her easy enough. And I have a plan to get her here that's better than any kidnapping." <> (c) 1995 Mabnesswords Muchly appreciated comments to mikeb@usa1.com =========================================================================