Date: Mon, 25 Apr 1994 17:12:43 EDT Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Obi-wan never saw this place 25-Apr-1994 1705 Subject: Sacrifice Gambit (4/4) 4 When Richie woke up, it was nighttime in the world of the dead. It took a few minutes for Richie to realize that the afterlife sounded a lot like Macleod's barge in Paris. When he opened his eyes he perceived that the afterlife looked exactly like the spare bedroom. There was a single lamp on. He could hear music -- Annie Lennox singing "Love Song For A Vampire." He got out of the bed and reached for a pair of sweat pants folded neatly on a chair. He put them on and made his way out into the living room. Two single candles set on the coffee table gave light to the room. Macleod was sitting in the large leather chair, watching the flames dance in the tiny drafts. "I'm not dead," Richie said from the doorway. "It *feels* like he cut my head off. How long have I been out?" Macleod did not turn to answer. "Most of a day. It's Tuesday evening, about ten o'clock." "What *did* happen?" "At the last instant he turned his wrist and hit you in the temple with the flat of the blade." "Why?" "You were disarmed. It was over." "Why didn't he kill me?" "I told you, he's like me. He wouldn't kill you just for your Quickening." Macleod sat very still, not taking his eyes off the candles. There was very little feeling in his voice. Richie came and took a seat on the sofa. He sat looking down, forearms resting on his thighs. After a silence of perhaps a minute, he said, "All right, I give up. What's going on?" "Trevor went to speak to her, and she didn't change her story, but close to the end she said something about him having some kind of mark on his arm. Whoever set you up underestimated Trevor. He's been a mixed up in the intrigue of ten lifetimes. Emperors and kings on three continents have tried to get rid of him and failed." "Why?" "It was a pretty clumsy attempt. It makes me think they were trying to exploit an unexpected opportunity. The solution we've agreed on for now is that someone tried to provoke him into killing you." Richie looked toward Macleod. "The renegade Watchers?" Macleod nodded. "Remember the woman and the driver?" Richie nodded, and Macleod continued, "I think I found the driver of the car. Tattoo on the wrist. He swallowed cyanide when I cornered him." "This doesn't seem like Horton's style, though." "No. This might be someone new." Macleod would be paying another visit to Joe Dawson when he got back to Seattle. "The renegade looked a little like you. Enough to pass for you, to a frightened woman in the dark." "So when you two figured it out it was a trap, you set a trap back." "Yes." The CD changer clicked quietly, and Annie Lennox gave way to Samuel Barber, strings weeping in the dark. "You could have clued me in. I might have killed *him*, you know." "He knew that, but there wasn't time, and no good way to do it. He improvised in a hurry, and like anything done in a hurry it went a little wrong. It wasn't supposed to get as far as it did, but my plane got held up in a security alert at Heathrow. We were lucky the renegade didn't bother to hide himself that well, didn't pay attention to me. If it was Horton, they're scraping the bottom of the barrel." "Was he toying with me?" "No. Rhys-Jones doesn't toy with people. If he was drawing it out at the end it was because he wasn't sure whether or not I'd found the renegade. When he let you have it he couldn't think of a way to fake it any more." "If there was anyone else watching, I think they're convinced. I was sure he was going to kill me." "You have a little reprieve, Richie. When I got to him he was on a cellular phone, and I broke it before he could say I was there. That means he couldn't have told anyone that he didn't see Trevor take your head before he killed himself. So whoever sent him, for just now, doesn't know the plan didn't work." Richie leaned back. "Still, I don't suppose I should go back to England." "A year ought to be enough." "Well, that's one fake passport down, two to go." He waited for some kind of response from Macleod. When it did not come he asked, "Aren't you going to tell me to be more careful, that I have to a better job of lying low?" "Questions you know the answers to don't need to be asked." They sat without speaking for a while. When the Adagio finished, Macleod stood up. "I'm heading back to the U.S. tomorrow. You can stay here as long as it takes to make your arrangements, but not too long. I'm thinking of selling this thing." "I'm thinking Paris might not be a good place to be, either," said Richie. "I've been paying rent on that car all this time. Might as well get some use out of it." Richie went to pack, and Macleod blew out the candles. # The woman in the raincoat stepped out of the evening drizzle into the post office. Her short black hair shone from the mist. It was warmer inside but she shivered nevertheless as she headed for a phone booth. She met with minimal resistance from the telephone system, and made her connection in less than a minute. "Hello." It was a man's voice, speaking English. "C'est Solange." She was working on her English but sometimes she forgot. "I've just come from my friend in the Surete." "And?" "Etienne bobbed up against the Pont Neuf this morning. He took his pill. The Surete are calling it a suicide." "Then it wasn't the discharge of power that cut the phone connection." "Non. I went to the canal. Ryan's rented car was gone when I got there. At the dock, there is blood, but..." "No other signs?" "Just so. Les fenetres, they were not broken. There was no scorching." "If they got Etienne, they might have seen through it." "There were lights on the barge. Should I stay there?" "Yes, but don't feel pressed to follow if he leaves Paris. There are other hounds for that trail." "D'accord. Bon soir." "Merci, Solange." The man on the other end hung up his phone. Then he pressed another button on the phone console, and a recording began to play: "Macleod's arrived... Rhys-Jones is warning him off, and he's going. Oh, well, another day for him.... Ryan's been disarmed. Rhys-Jones is making him suffer a little. Now -- this is going to be it. Rhys-Jones is winding up --" A burst of static, then silence, and the man shut off the recording. He folded his hands, pressing the knuckles of his interlaced fingers to his lips. He considered how he would present this to the brotherhood, his displeasure at their incompetence. Money and other things of value squandered to no avail. Well, perhaps Sandra would reconsider her stubborn attitude about returning to the university. A few minutes went by, then there was a quiet knock at the study door. "Who is it?" "Doctor Fraser." "Come in." Fraser wore a charcoal gray suit and dark tie. He had a stethoscope around his neck. "She's in for the night, sir." "How's she feeling?" "I had to give her a sedative again. She's going to need some therapy, I'm afraid. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to let her talk to that gentleman from the university yesterday morning. I know he tried to help, but he must have reminded her of it." "I should have cancelled that appointment, I suppose. What did they talk about?" "It seemed he was trying to find out more about the attacker. Nurse Emerson said that Sandra did remember something else about the man that attacked her -- a tattoo or something." "Indeed." *They were sloppy -- no denying it now. I was a fool to rely on them.* "The man was very gentle, but still..." "Well, he won't be coming back." He recalled, with some irony, the note he found from Rhys-Jones. It said that everything would be taken care of, that no one else need be involved."And when Sandra wakes up I'll have some good news." "Sir?" "They found the man who attacked her. Dead, in France. Some right thinking person spared the state the expense of a trial and jail." "Oh, that would do her spirits good! Is it certain?" "I'm quite sure it's the man." *At least Solange can be relied on. In future I'll take more care.* "Well, that's splendid. I'll say good night then, Sir Peter." "Good night, Doctor Fraser." =========================================================================