Date: Mon, 12 Feb 1996 02:40:16 EST Reply-To: Janine Shahinian <72557.627@COMPUSERVE.COM> Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Janine Shahinian <72557.627@COMPUSERVE.COM> Subject: Destiny - Part 2/5 DESTINY (Part 2/5) (c) Janine Shahinian 72557.627@compuserve.com ********** Vicky was glad that she had brought Richie along. As they drove and talked, a clearer picture of Duncan MacLeod began to emerge. It seemed fitting that he was also an antiques dealer. On hearing that he taught a class at the university, as well, Vicky no longer had any doubts that she had come to the right person for help with her project. As for how *Richie* fit into this picture, she was less certain. That he worked for MacLeod explained his reason for being in Paris, but Richie seemed to be more of a friend than an employee. Most employees don't get to spend their morning fencing with the boss, joining them for lunch and then getting sent on a goodwill errand for the afternoon. Vicky had a feeling that if she solved the mysteries surrounding Richie, she'd know a lot more about Duncan. Vicky found a parking space way down on the fifth level of the subterranean parking garage and they talked as they walked to the elevators. "Why were you teasing MacLeod about knowing so much Scottish history?" Vicky asked. "Oh, ah... I guess you'd really have to know Mac to see the humor in it," Richie smiled. "And you.... really know him..." It was a tentative question. Richie stepped ahead to press the button. "What, like in the biblical sense?" he joked. He turned back to Vicky with a grin, only to see her upraised eyebrow and a "you said it, not me" expression. "Uh.... no," he blushed, "nothing like that..... We're both straight. Mac's just a really good friend." "I'm sorry. It wasn't any of my business." "No, that's ok." Richie waved the concern away. He realized he actually liked having Vicky ask him something personal. Why should he distance himself from someone like Vicky, he thought, after all that MacLeod had done for him? As the elevator doors opened, he added, "You can ask me anything. I mean it." Vicky gave Richie a warm smile. She pressed the button for the 45th floor and the doors closed. "How did you meet him?" Richie gave a half grin. "Ah. You *would* have to ask that one." He leaned against the elevator wall and smiled sheepishly to Vicky. "He caught me breaking into his antique store." "You're kidding!" laughed Vicky. "Nope. After that, I sort of became his project. He and Tessa took me in, gave me a job and made sure I became a respectable citizen." He gave an inward smile. "Tessa? That's his wife's name?" Richie shook his head. "His fiancee. She was killed two years ago." The two exchanged glances, but the elevator stopped on the main floor to accept more passengers, bringing their private conversation to a close. The building was mostly residential, but also had a fair share of professional offices. A couple of executive types carrying briefcases entered first, followed by an elderly lady using a cane and a young woman carrying a bag of groceries. Vicky, always the people-watcher, glanced over to Richie who, in turn, was checking out Miss Shopper. She decided that she liked Richie. She could see why someone would want to have this young man as a friend. And she had been right; getting to know Richie made her appreciate Duncan all the more. she thought. She was always pleased when she found this trait in others. She looked forward to working with him the next day. *DING* Her stomach flip-flopped as the elevator doors opened. It was Paul whom she especially looked forward to seeing. Despite having been away for fourteen years, Vicky remembered which door led to the small law firm without having to look at the numbers or refer to the signs on the walls. Vicky led the way down the hall and through one of the doors. Inside, the residential suite had been remodeled into offices and workspaces. Richie and Vicky entered a large reception area which had probably been designed to be a living room. The spacious room extended from the door straight back to the large window at the far side. Immediately to the right was a well-appointed work area for the receptionist. At the moment, no one was there. Beyond, by the window, there was a sitting area furnished with modern couches. A door to the left of the sitting area looked like it led to one of the offices, and a hallway to their left obviously led to other rooms. Vicky took a peek down the hall to look for the receptionist. Richie, seeing a stack of Carson's business cards, slipped one into his pocket. "Family Law," the card read, "Divorce - Adoption - Wills & Estates." Just then, a young Asian woman emerged from one of the back rooms, the sound of a copy machine being suddenly cut off as she shut the door behind her. "Oh, I'm sorry. I hope you weren't waiting long," said the receptionist. "Are you here to see Mr. Carson?" "Yes, is he in?" asked Vicky. "I believe he's on the phone right now, but I'll page him. You are...?" "Vicky Macmillan." "Oh, Miss Macmillan, I've heard so much about you. Please, have a seat. I'll tell him you're here." Richie strolled ahead to look out the window. Vicky followed, but only made a cursory glance at the view and then paced back to stand opposite of the door to the side. It didn't open right at that instant, so she turned to examine a small piece of sculpture on an end table, her attempts to contain herself failing miserably. Finally, the door was thrown wide with a call of "Vicky!" and a casually dressed man, wearing jeans and a sweater, came out to greet his visitor. "Hi, Paul," said Vicky, with anticipation. The two exchanged a friendly embrace and then stood back to examine each other. As usual, Vicky liked what she saw. Paul Carson, at 40, still had his youthful good looks. Although his hair was thinning just a little bit on top, the rest was still a lush, chestnut brown with only a hint of grey. A short, trim beard and mustache compensated for his baby-face cheeks. But with or without the beard, Paul's whole appearance had a commanding presence, rather like the Commander on one of those science fiction programs. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" Paul's tone was outwardly pleasant and enthusiastic, but Vicky couldn't help noting that this was the first thing he said to her. "It was a surprise," smiled Vicky. "Well, gosh, this is wonderful! I can't believe you're back in town." "It's kind of hard for me to believe as well." "Come on inside, let me get you something," said Paul, as he ushered Vicky to his office door. "Oh, Paul, I'd like to introduce you someone..." Richie had been standing with his side to the pair so as to be unobtrusive and now came forward with his hand extended. He had fixed a polite expression on his face and noticed that Carson had started to do the same when.... "....This is Richie Ryan. His friend is going to help me with my project ...." ...Suddenly, just as their eyes and hands met, Paul's facade vanished. For an instant, there was only a stunned gaze. Their hands withdrew, unshaken. Richie lost his pleasant smile while Paul struggled to regain his own. Vicky could only think to continue with what she was saying, but it sounded automatic. "Richie has offered to show me the city." She gave Paul a probing look. "Oh! That's great, just great," Paul managed to say. "Please, come in. Have a seat." Vicky and Richie then exchanged confused looks and followed Paul into his office. "I've got juice, mineral water... Would anyone like coffee?" "Water's fine for me, Paul," Vicky answered. "Richie?" "Ah, same here." Paul fetched the drinks as Vicky and Richie took a seat in the chairs facing the large desk. "So what brings you back home, Vicky?" Paul handed them each a glass and moved to claim his chair on the other side of the desk. "Well, like I was saying, it's for the project I've been working on, tracing the Macmillan lineage back to Scotland. You sent me all that stuff in the mail, remember?" "Oh, yes! Of course. So you're still doing that. And this... person you met... is going to help you?" "Yes. Duncan MacLeod. He seems to know a great deal about Scottish history - even thinks we've got a lead on matching my ancestor with some historical figure." On hearing the name, Carson blinked and recoiled his head back just a trifle, as though some minuscule projectile had hit him in the forehead. It was subtle - too subtle for even Vicky's keen ability to pick up on body language - but Richie filed it away with the other reactions. "I see." Paul's eyes quickly looked over to Richie and then back to Vicky. "How did you find this fellow way out here?" "Duncan came highly recommended by this historian guy I met at the university in Paris." Vicky hoped that sounded impressive enough, not knowing why she was getting the third degree. "Named Adam Pierson. He seemed quite sure that Duncan would be able to help me." Paul ran his fingers through his hair and fixed Vicky with a smile. "Well, I think it's really great to have you back, Vicky. In fact, there are some matters that I should discuss with you now that you're home." "Sure, Paul, what is it?" "Richie," Paul said pleasantly, "would you mine excusing us for a moment?" "No problem," Richie said while getting up. He laid his glass on the desk. "I'll be right outside." Paul saw him out and closed the door. He then came and sat in Richie's chair and faced Vicky. Out in the sitting area, Richie sat down on one of the couches and looked over at the receptionist. She was busy collecting a bunch of papers in a pile. She picked these up and walked down the hall to the noisy workroom, shutting the door behind her once again to block out the sounds. Seeing his opportunity, Richie got back up and listened in at the door. It was hard to make out the words, but the tone of their voices came through clearly. "What's up with you, Paul?" Vicky said it with concern. Paul took Vicky's hand by way of an apology and tried to sound consoling. "Oh, Vicky. Each time you go off on another one of these kicks of yours, I get worried. Why can't you just settle down, make some long-term relationships, people whom you can trust...." Vicky pulled her hand away and jumped out of her chair. "You have no right to tell me what to do! And you, of all people, talking about trust. Don't you trust *me*, Paul?" "Of course I trust you!" Paul got up and followed Vicky. "I mean *really* trust me. Trust me to be able to live my own life, to make smart decisions about the people I meet..." "Vicky, you don't *know* these people! You're back, now, in the city where your parents were killed. You have to..." "What are you saying? That I have to go around suspecting the whole goddamn *town*! I'm not going to live my life that way, Paul. If you want to, go right ahead. But Richie is just a young man and you haven't even met Duncan. If you had, you'd see that he's not the type to have gone around killing people when he was Richie's age." Paul's voice was low and ominous. "I'm not so sure about that." Vicky walked to the door. "Oh, Paul....." "Vicky, please, listen to me!" Vicky stopped and faced Paul. "What was it you wanted to discuss with me?" "Nothing which can't keep," said Paul. Vicky turned the knob and Richie jumped back to the couch. "Let's go," Vicky told Richie, and kept walking to the outer door. Richie got up as Carson came to his office door and the two faced off. They paused there for a moment, each trying to look deep within to the other person's soul. Then Richie dropped his eyes and followed Vicky out. He caught up with her as she pushed the down button for the elevator. "Uh, I guess this means you're not up to checking out the roof," remarked Richie. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry, I forgot all about that. Can I take a rain check? I..." "Sure, sure! Hey, don't sweat it. We can do it some other time; make a whole day of taking you around to places." "Thanks, Richie." Vicky gave a sad smile as the elevator sounded its arrival. They stepped in, each wondering how they could ask the other the questions which were foremost in their minds. "About Paul...." they both said at once. They broke off and gave a laugh. "I'm sorry about that, Richie. I don't know what got into him. Maybe I shouldn't have surprised him by not telling him I was coming back. Here I thought *I'd* be the one getting all neurotic by being back here and then *he* goes and freaks out. The look he gave you... it's like he knew you." "Well, I can assure you, I never met him before today," said Richie. "You didn't rob a bank or something back when...." "No, just petty theft... And I *never* held up anyone or anything like that, if that's what you're thinking. I took things when no one was around." "I believe you, Richie. Still, why would Paul...?" "Looks to me like he's worried about you." "Yeah, well, I wish he'd get it through that thick skull of his that I can take care of myself." Another person got on the elevator and Richie was glad for the interruption. He was having a hard time knowing how to act around Vicky. It was one thing to let Vicky ask him anything, but quite another to answer the questions truthfully. While it was true that he had never met Carson, it didn't take much imagination to figure out why Carson recognized him. Clearly, truth came in different forms. That realization made Richie appreciate what MacLeod had done for him all the more. Way back in the beginning, it had never ceased to amaze him that this 400 year old guy would take him into his home and tell him all this secret stuff about Immortals. Of course, that all became clear after Richie became immortal, himself. In fact, the discovery was a bit of a let-down at first. But after he got past the collection of lies and half-truths which MacLeod used to keep him from knowing of his potential, Richie was glad that he only had to adjust to his own immortality and not immortality in general. Vicky was another matter entirely. She hadn't seen anything which needed explaining, wasn't being questioned by the police, didn't need to be taken under anyone's wing to be reformed and basically had no good reason for being dragged into the world of Immortals - whether it was prematurely or otherwise. Unless - or until - circumstances changed, Richie realized, she was better off not knowing. ********** Vicky dropped Richie off in front of the dojo before heading back to her hotel. "Maybe I'll see you tomorrow," said Vicky. Richie had gotten out of the car and bent down to talk through the open window. "Anytime you want a tour of the city, just let me know." "How about the day *after* tomorrow?" Vicky asked eagerly. "Great!" Richie waved and Vicky drove away. It was nice to see that Vicky didn't let negative feelings get her down for long. She was a survivor. Duncan had not yet returned from his own errand, so Richie settled into the office to catch up on work and wait for him. About two hours later, Duncan entered the dojo carrying a couple of shopping bags and looking tired. Richie saved what he was doing on the computer and turned the machine off as Duncan walked into the office. "Oh, I thought you were at the police station all this time," Richie said, indicating the shopping bags. "Practically." Duncan still needed to unwind and wasn't quite up for long explanations just yet. He laid one bag down on the desk and held onto the other one. "Care to stay for dinner?" "Sure!" answered Richie. But Duncan had already started walking to the elevator, knowing what Richie's answer would be. Richie lowered the lift gate and assessed Duncan's mood. "Lemme guess. You had to wait around until some clerk finally got to you, then you waited until they found the file. And instead of just letting you see it, you had to play twenty questions with them and they answered every question with, 'Why do you want to know?' Am I right?" Duncan gave Richie a look which said, "As if you didn't know," and pulled the gate up. "So did you get anything?" "Eventually," said Duncan. He set the grocery bag down on the counter and began to unload it. "How'd it go at Carson's office?" Richie stood on the opposite side of the kitchen island. "From the way he looked at me.... and his other reactions.... I'd say he knows about us, Mac." Duncan met Richie's eyes for a second and removed the remaining items out of the shopping bag. Finally he stopped what he was doing. "I could use a drink," he said flatly. Richie jumped up. "I'll get it." Richie went over to Duncan's bar and poured out two glasses of single malt scotch and carried them back over to the kitchen. "You don't seem so surprised," he said, as he handed Duncan his glass. Duncan swirled the clear liquid in order to collect his thoughts and then took a large gulp. He felt the inviting warmth begin to take hold, pushing some of the accumulated stress out of his system. "What did you see in him?" he asked. "Shock.... fear, disgust, mistrust, hate? It's hard to say. But he definitely wasn't happy to see me, *or* hear that Vicky is going to be working with you." Duncan took another sip and then went back to getting dinner ready. He talked as he worked. "The Viva Tower is where Horton used to live," Duncan stated bluntly. "The first thing that occurred to me was some kind of connection, but then it seemed like too much of a coincidence." "Oh, man! So that's where that guy, Robert, was thrown from a balcony. Great, so I could have been walking into a nest of renegade Watchers," exclaimed Richie. Duncan shrugged. "I thought their group had been dealt with." "So Carson is a Watcher, but he can't be Vicky's Watcher. She's not one of us yet." "Who knows what he could be up to? And if he was ever connected with Horton, it can't be anything good." Duncan's voice sounded grim. "So what did you find out at the police station?" "From what they were able to piece together, Robert Blackwell summoned Vicky's parents in for an after-hours meeting at the Viva Tower office. The secretary had placed the call and gone home at the end of the day. The security guard remembers that Carson left the building before the Macmillans arrived. "Sometime later, an accountant that worked across the hall had seen the Macmillans arguing with Blackwell as they left his office. The garage attendant saw the Macmillans drive away, and was one of the many people who heard the car explode further down the block." "A block away?" Richie asked. "So the bomb wasn't wired to the ignition." "That's right. The reports showed that the bomb was triggered remotely. The police suspect that the killer wanted to make sure he had the right people and was probably someplace where he could actually see them. "The secretary was the one to find Blackwell's body the next day. He had been shot at close range to the side of the head with his own gun..." "Suicide?" Richie broke in. He remembered Vicky mentioning the gun, but not the proximity. Duncan shook his head. "The police don't think so. There was no gunpowder residue on his hand. "Anyway, Carson claimed a check from the Macmillan's account was missing and put a stop payment on it, but no one attempted to cash it." "That doesn't make sense," Richie noted. "Vicky seemed to think her parents were killed for their money. So why wouldn't the killer try to cash the check?" "The police still don't have *any* motive for the killing," Duncan pointed out. "For all we know, Carson could have removed the check, himself. And who do you think let Vicky believe that the police had a motive?" "OK, Carson," Richie answered. "So did the police suspect him?" "They did. But they had no other evidence to build a case against him. What the evidence *does* suggest is that this guy is good at trying to frame someone else. Whoever the killer is, he covers his tracks." "I have a hard time seeing Carson behind this, Mac. He seemed really protective of Vicky and was trying to warn her away from us." "Then maybe we're the next ones he'll try to frame." Dinner was rather quiet as Richie tried to reconcile Duncan's theory with what he had seen. He found himself playing Devil's Advocate, but each time he raised a point for Duncan to consider, Duncan was always able to come back with a possible explanation. Eventually, Richie gave up. There was still too much that they didn't know and trying to argue with a 400 year old Immortal was useless. MacLeod had survived by learning to trust very few people, and Richie had to admit that he wasn't ready to trust Paul Carson. Richie helped Duncan clean up and got ready to leave. "Maybe you can get Vicky to tell you more about Carson when she comes over tomorrow." "Perhaps," said Duncan. "Oh, that reminds me. Could you make a run to the lumberyard tomorrow while she's here?" "Sure," answered Richie. "I'll see you tomorrow." ********** end part 2/5 of Destiny - Janine Shahinian 72557.627@compuserve.com =========================================================================