Date: Fri, 2 Jun 1995 16:59:33 +0100 Reply-To: Grail Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Grail Subject: "Steele Blades" Part 3 (very late, but...) Sorry this is so late, but exams have been doing their level best to drown me in work and revision. So here's part 3...part 4 follows soonish... Steele Blades by Grail (Mark Overton) Part 3 "But why?" Tessa demanded, frustrated. "I don't understand why you have to go and see those two people, Duncan. Is it just because they're the same? The same as you, immortal?" "Something like that," Duncan nodded. "Can't it wait?" Tessa cast a glance in the direction of the hospital ward. "Jacques is dying. You promised to come with me." "I know, sweetheart, I know." Duncan shrugged helplessly. "There's nothing I can do. Rules are rules - I have to meet them, tell them the rules." "They could work it out for themselves," Tessa muttered rebelliously. "They don't have to," Duncan responded. "Not while there's someone to help them. And they'll need help." "Run!" Laura cried. She looked round and saw Steele already vanishing into the darkness. A glance back over her shoulder showed the man in the blue suit advancing, sword at the ready; Laura sprinted after Steele as fast as possible, through the grounds of the hospital. During the day, the hospital grounds would have been pleasantly laid out, with nicely-mowed lawns and well-kept paths for weary patients to take a stroll and forget their fatigue. To Laura and Steele, it was a dark and shadowy place, filled with menace and threats in every corner. They skidded round the rear of the hospital and ran, as one, towards a group of trees that offered the only cover in this part of the gardens. Overhead, a raven watched them with evil eyes. "D'you think we've lost him?" Laura demanded, leaning against a tree to get her breath back. Steele was watching the entrance to the copse warily, his eyes searching through the darkness. "Unlikely, I'm afraid," he responded absently. "I was hoping you'd reassure me, Mr Steele," Laura retorted, pushing herself away from the tree and standing beside him. "What have we gotten ourselves into this time? A paralysed woman dressed as a bride and placed as a mannequin in a shopping mall, a madman with a sword, a mad Scotsman who thinks he knows what's going on, and now a chase." She sighed and clicked her heels. "There's no place like home," she said hopefully. "I'm sorry to rain on your party, Dorothy," Steele said, "but I don't think that's going to happen. Look." The entrance to the copse, faintly illuminated by the light from the windows of the hospital, darkened suddenly. The man in the blue suit smiled at them. "So here you are," he said, his accent faintly Teutonic. "Which one first?" "First for what?" Steele demanded. "First to lose your head, of course," the man said. "But then, I wouldn't expect you to understand - you're new, after all. So I'll just take your heads now." "I wouldn't do that," said a new voice from behind Laura and Steele. They spun round to see a figure move out of the shadows, eyes hard. Duncan stared at the other immortal. "These two are under my protection. You have to go through me first." The man considered him. "And who might you be?" "I am Duncan Macleod, of the Clan Macleod. You?" "Lentz, Christopher Lentz. You wouldn't be any relation to Connor Macleod?" "My kinsman," Duncan nodded. "I thought so. There aren't many Highlanders in the Game." Lentz hefted his sword thoughtfully. "How old are you, Duncan Macleod?" "Old enough." "Old enough for it to be too much of a risk," Lentz smiled. "I'll come for Mr Steele and Miss Holt some other time, then. Bye." "I don't think so." Steele and Laura's eyes widened in surprise as Duncan unlimbered the dragon-head katana he had been carrying inside his trenchcoat and stepped forward. "Let's find out now." Lentz smiled. "No, no. I never fight the experienced, Macleod; only the weak and the unready. I'll see you sometime." He turned and ran, footsteps fading into the night. Duncan took a couple of steps after him, then apparently changed his mind. He turned and looked at Steele and Laura, who had stood by as silent witnesses. "Are either of you any good with a sword?" he asked. "What do you mean, we can't die?" Laura repeated incredulously. "Which part of it didn't you understand - can't, or die?" Duncan asked with just a hint of a grin. "I mean you're immortal. That's how you survived all those gunshots when Lentz had his men fire on you." "Then why intervene when Lentz attacked?" Steele asked. "If we're immortal, it wouldn't matter." They were sitting in the back of Duncan's car, a 1950s Thunderbird; Tessa, his partner, had agreed to take a taxi back after she had finished visiting her friend, a Frenchman who was dying of cancer. Duncan was driving them back to Steele's apartment, answering questions along the way. "That's the only way you can die," Duncan said, answering Steele's question. "If someone takes your head, it's all over." "And how old are you, Mr Macleod?" Laura asked. "Duncan. I'm three hundred and ninety-three." "Soon be getting middle-aged," Steele said flippantly. "And what's this Game you and Lentz mentioned?" Laura pressed, ignoring Steele's comment. "Do all of you try and chop each other's heads off for a laugh, or is there something else?" Duncan swung the Thunderbird around a corner. "Yes, there's something else. Each time you take someone's head, you receive the dead immortal's strength and knowledge - it's called the Quickening. When there are no more immortals left, the last of us will have the power to rule the world - or destroy it." "Oh marvellous," Steele said, staring at the back of Duncan's head. "So if there's a sword-wielding maniac chasing me, at least I know he has a good reason." "Please, Mr Steele," Laura said tetchily. "Duncan, what else?" "That's the basics. I'll tell you the rest when we get to Mr Steele's apartment." "Did you get them, sir?" the chauffeur inquired, leaping out of the driver's seat to open the rear door of the limousine. Handing him the sword, Christopher Lentz climbed into the back. "No, I did not," he answered shortly. "Another of us intervened. A Duncan Macleod, kinsman to Connor. Another Highlander." "I'm sorry to hear that, sir." The chauffeur seated himself at the wheel and pulled the door shut. "Where to, sir?" "Home," Lentz ordered, thinking hard. He picked up the cellular phone which was resting beside him and dialled a number. After a moment, the connection was made, and a slow smile appeared on Lentz's face. "Yevgeny? I want you to dig into the files. Everything you have on a Duncan Macleod, and then Remington Steele Investigations as well." "Is this some kind of a joke?" Mildred demanded. Beside her, Cooper's face reddened into near-apoplexy. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded in turn. "Who stole Steele and Miss Holt's bodies?" The mortuary attendant went white. "Er, sir, I don't - " he began to stutter. "Sir, sir, n-n-nobody could have - " "Could have what?" Cooper bellowed. "Are you telling me that they got up and left by themselves?!" "Inspector," Mildred interrupted sharply. "Inspector, it's late and I'm tired and I haven't done the washing yet. Unless you've actually got some bodies for me to identify, I refuse to believe they're dead. Can I go now?" Cooper opened and closed his mouth without saying anything, like a goldfish that needs feeding. Eventually, his shoulders slumped. "Yes, Miss Krebs," he said. "Thanks for your time." Mildred harrumphed in irritation, turned, and left the morgue with the faintest of shivers at having had to go into that dreadful place in the first instance. Cooper turned to the mortuary attendant, an evil look on his face. "I want to know everything about this place's security procedures," he said. "And I mean everything." The attendant went even more white. "So what do you know about Christopher Lentz?" Laura demanded. Duncan shrugged. "Nothing." "Nothing?" Steele prompted. "Nothing. I've never met him before." Duncan considered the cup of coffee he was holding. "He said he only killed the weak and the unready. Probably preys on people who have just turned immortal and haven't had the time to get a sword and learn the Rules. I know others who do that." "People like us," Laura said grimly. "Yes." "So we have to learn to fight with swords?" Steele said sceptically. Duncan shrugged. "No. You could just sit there with a big notice saying Take My Head if you wanted." He put the coffee-cup down. "I'm going to go back to Tessa now. Don't leave the apartment unless you have to; if you sense another immortal, make sure it's me before you open the door. Understand?" "Alright," Laura nodded. Steele did the same thing, noticeably more reluctantly. Duncan rose and headed for the apartment door. As he put his hand on the handle, he turned. "By the way." Laura and Steele turned. "What?" Duncan grinned. "Don't lose your heads." He pulled the door open and left the apartment. As the door closed behind him, Laura and Steele looked at each other. "Drink?" Steele asked. She nodded wordlessly. "Drink," he confirmed, and crossed to where a bottle of wine was sitting unopened. A couple of wine glasses were swiftly filled and he passed one to Laura. "Cheers," he said. "Yes," she said absently, drinking the wine almost in one gulp and holding out her glass for more. Steele silently refilled it and Laura drank half of that as well before relaxing a little. "Well," Steele said, sitting down beside her, "this is turning out to be an unusual day." "Unusual?" Laura gave a short laugh. "I think you mean unique, Mr Steele, don't you? I've been shot, I've woken up in a mortuary, I've been chased by a man with a sword, and then told by another man with a sword that I can't die. That's pretty unique. Ouch!" she said sharply, putting her finger to her mouth. "Problem?" "I've cut my finger." She showed him the small drop of blood welling up from the cut. Then it happened. A tiny grey spark of energy danced on Laura's finger for a moment. Steele and Laura stared at the smooth skin with no trace of the wound. "Good grief," Steele said slowly. Laura raised haunted eyes to him. "Mr Steele....I think it's true. We are immortal." The doorbell cut through the silence like a knife, and they both jumped in shock and surprise. Steele leapt up and stood beside the sofa indecisively. He looked down at Laura. "It could be...." Laura shook her head. "We'd have sensed him." "Yes, but - well, but - " "Oh, for heaven's sake, stop worrying," she said in annoyance, and got up from the sofa. Nudging Steele aside, she crossed to the door and stared through the peephole in the centre. She turned back with worry on her face. "Who is it?" Steele asked. "Another immortal," Laura said. "Who?" She grinned suddenly. "Someone who's always around." She pulled open the door. "Hiya, boss," said Mildred. The building was at least six storeys high, the first five taken up with a big department store right in the centre of the city. The sixth floor was closed to all but the most exalted people, because Christopher Lentz had no intention of allowing any immortal up to his private penthouse. As he had told Duncan in the copse outside the hospital, Lentz fought only the new immortals; let the older ones kill each other, he would stand on the sidelines and, when the time came, be one of the last ones. He entered the penthouse in a bad mood, annoyed that Duncan Macleod had intervened in his killing of Steele and Miss Holt. Passing a uniformed servant without a glance, Lentz opened the big double doors into the penthouse's main room and looked around imperiously. "Sarah?" he demanded. The bedroom door opened. "Yes, dear." Her ash blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, the woman who had been paralysed in the shopping mall entered the room with her eyes suitably downcast in respect. She came as beckoned to Lentz, and he kissed her perfunctorily on the cheek before throwing himself down on the sofa. "Did it go well, my lord?" Sarah asked. "No, it did not," Lentz said bad-temperedly. He looked at her with a sudden snarl on his face. "And don't pry into my affairs!" His hand blurred and slapped her round the face; Sarah flinched with the blow but did not cry out. "Yes, my lord," she murmured submissively. "Good," Lentz said. "Are you pleased I rescued you?" "Yes, my lord." "Good." Lentz said again, examining his fingernails. "It was a clever ploy, hiding you the way they did; unfortunately, they forgot to account for the fact that one of them would talk when put...well, under pressure." He noticed his ex-wife's slight shiver and his smile widened. "Robert talked in the end." "Mr Lentz?" a nervous voice asked with a Russian accent. Lentz looked up lazily. "Yes, Yevgeny?" The Russian was thin and looked underfed, his clothes slightly too big for him and poorly tailored. "Mr Lentz, I did as you asked. This is the information we have on Duncan Macleod." He held up a sheet of paper. "And this is the information on Remington Steele Investigations...there's something odd there." Lentz frowned. "What?" "Remington Steele....we have no information for him. None." Yevgeny blinked nervously. "I have no idea why not. Our best information-gatherers were unable to get anything." Lentz took the two sheets of paper, pushing Sarah aside, and examined the one on Steele and Laura. "So they were," he mused aloud. "Intriguing." He crumpled the sheets and threw them back to Yevgeny. "Have the chauffeur bring the car round at six pm tomorrow," he ordered. "I will be practicing up here all day tomorrow. I'm not to be disturbed unless it's absolutely vital - is that understood?" Yevgeny nodded. "Yes, Mr Lentz." He hurried from the room as Lentz looked round. Sarah was still kneeling on the floor where he had pushed her. The immortal smiled. "Sarah, stand up." She did so, still looking down. Lentz took her chin in one hand and raised it. "Don't look so sad," he admonished. "We still have the rest of the night in which to play." Sarah smiled; but as Lentz pulled her toward the bedroom the smile faded and didn't return. =========================================================================