Changing of the Guard 3: Be All That You Can Be 4/22 [PG13] xover
Ecolea (ecolea@WT.NET)
Mon, 24 Sep 2001 08:46:47 GMT
Chapter 5
Paris by night was always an experience. Beautiful, elegant, a
gem of a city General Hammond thought as his plane landed. Months
before he'd made this journey to see an old friend under less
than optimal circumstances. Now, the circumstances were no less
dire, but he had time for more than a brief visit. Not much time,
he admitted as he disembarked and climbed into the car that was
waiting, but enough not to have to come like a thief in the night
and steal away before dawn rose over the city.
Le Blues Bar was busy with the trendy late evening crowd when
Hammond walked in dressed in casual clothes as if he were no more
than any other patron come to hear the blues and have a drink.
Joe noticed him first from his place on the stage catching Duncan
MacLeod's eye with a practiced look. The Highlander half rose and
turned to offer the general a seat.
"Hammond," he nodded as the other man sat and MacLeod signaled a
waitress to take his order. "They're just starting another set,"
he explained as he glanced toward the stage.
The general nodded. "Then I'm just in time," he smiled, shifting
his chair to get a better view of the band. His beer arrived and
the house settled down as Joe launched into a raucous and raunchy
rendition of "Baby, What You Want Me To Do," one of Hammond's
favorites. An hour later the band said goodnight and Joe joined
his friends at the table.
"Hey, George," Dawson drawled as he settled into a chair, "or is
it Sir now?"
"I don't see any uniforms here, do you?" he responded quietly.
"Yeah, well..." Dawson shrugged.
"We'll talk about it later," Hammond promised, glancing at
MacLeod.
"Feel free to talk about it now," the Highlander said, staring
hard the general. "Joe's already told me about his little visit
with O'Neill."
Hammond stared back. "It's a private matter, Mr. MacLeod. And we
have other things to discuss at the moment."
MacLeod nodded slowly. He couldn't deny that it made sense for
the military to use the Watchers. They were already an
established surveillance operation with quite a few ex-military
men and women in their ranks. A surveillance operation they
didn't even have to infiltrate because just like Joe, they could
call on already established loyalties and demand cooperation
under the National Secrets Act. He might not like it, but it made
sense.
"I thought you weren't interested in the Immortals I suggested?"
MacLeod asked warily.
"That's correct," Hammond agreed. "But we are interested in
these."
The general held out a small piece of paper to him and MacLeod
accepted it cautiously. He read the names, his jaw hardening as
he recognized the handwriting. "Adam give you these?"
"Captain Pierson suggested them, yes."
"He's out of his mind," MacLeod said, handing back the paper.
"Gina and Robert de Valicourt aren't suitable for this."
"From all accounts, I'd say they were perfect," Hammond
responded. "Intelligent, capable at handling weapons, not
interested in the Game and stable."
MacLeod sighed and shook his head. "Robert I can see, but Gina?"
"Are you aware that Mrs. de Valicourt served with exemplary
courage in the French Resistance?"
"Sure, but..."
"She's more than capable, Mr. MacLeod. And they have good reason
to join us. They have something more important to fight for than
most of those whose names you proffered. A world where they can
live and love for another three centuries."
And fight they would, MacLeod knew. And for just that reason. He
nodded slowly. "All right, I'll see what I can do," he agreed.
"This may take a little while. They're on their honeymoon."
"Honeymoon?" Hammond asked, a bit startled. "But I thought..."
Joe smiled. "The de Valicourts retake their vows every hundred
years. It's sort of a tradition."
"I see," Hammond nodded. "Well, do the best you can."
"I can maybe help you there," Joe grudgingly admitted, pouring
himself another whiskey. "Get a hold of their Watcher just to tie
up a few loose ends about that mysterious Immortal that tried to
take Robert's head last year then showed up at their wedding."
"Find their Watcher and you find them," MacLeod grinned. "Thanks,
Joe."
"Hey, no problem. It's the least I can do for my country," he
muttered.
"Yeah," MacLeod said uncomfortably. "So, uh, just how much can I
tell them?" he asked the general.
"How much would you need to tell them?"
MacLeod stared at his drink thoughtfully. "Not much, I suppose,"
he admitted. "They're friends. They'd come as a favor to me
and..." He sighed disgustedly. "I can always say that Adam asked
for them. They owe him one."
Hammond nodded in understanding. "Good. Then I'll leave it in
your hands, Mr. MacLeod. As soon as you can locate them have them
meet you in Colorado Springs. I'll see you there."
MacLeod grimaced and finished his drink. He knew when he was
being dismissed. Not that he really minded. Joe and his friend
had a lot to talk about. He stood, shrugging into his coat though
the night was warm and slightly muggy. "See you in a few days,
Hammond. Joe," he nodded.
"Yeah, Mac. I'll call as soon as I know anything."
MacLeod's departure seemed a signal for a number of other
customers to leave. When a few came by the table to tell Joe just
how much they'd enjoyed the night's entertainment Hammond waited
patiently as Dawson made a little small talk then asked if there
were somewhere they could talk privately. Joe nodded and led the
way to his small office. He poured each of them a fresh drink
then pulled a slightly crumpled napkin and a folded piece of
paper out of his shirt pocket.
"You mind telling me what this all about, George?" he asked,
tossing the items onto his desk.
Hammond didn't have to look at them to know what they were.
"It's a little irregular," he agreed. "But it's all quite legal."
"Legal my ass!" Joe groused as he took a seat and set his cane
aside. "Look, I don't know about you, George, but doesn't it
strike you as a little peculiar that the Marines are sending Air
Force colonels to reactivate fifty year old bartenders who
haven't seen action in thirty years?"
"Well...no," Hammond admitted, having seen far stranger things in
his career.
"Okay," Joe nodded. "How about fifty year old bartenders without
any legs?"
"You got me there," Hammond agreed. "But there really is a point
to it."
"Which is?"
Hammond held up his hands in acquiescence. "I'll get to that, I
promise. But first I need to ask you something."
Joe sighed and rolled his eyes. "Sure, lay it on me, pal."
"Do you remember an Army Drill Sergeant name of Bear?"
Joe looked vaguely confused and more than a bit surprised by the
question. "Army? No," he finally answered. "Marine Drill
Instructor, yeah. One of the Montford Marines. Way, way back when
they were still segregating. He was legendary. One tough son of a
bitch, or so the stories said. Why?"
"I was at a dinner party last week in Washington," Hammond
explained. "A few of us got to talking about old times. You know,
the usual stuff. A couple of guys mentioned they'd gone through
Basic back in '67 under a Sergeant Bear. Most intimidating Drill
Sergeant they'd ever seen."
"So? Maybe it was his kid," Dawson shrugged.
"Could be, but I remember my granddaddy talking about a Drill
Instructor Bear back when he enlisted for the First World War.
Granddad was three quarters Cherokee and they put him with the
25th Infantry."
Joe's eyes narrowed. "You're thinking Bear's an Immortal?"
Hammond nodded. "I did some checking. Like you said a Drill
Instructor Bear shows up in the Marines during the Second World
War. Got a reputation for being one mean son of a bitch. After
the war he floats from base to base then disappears. Shows up
again in the Army in '63 and does it all over again until about
ten years ago when he retires and again just disappears."
"Looks like you figured it out for yourself," Joe shrugged. "What
do you need me for?"
"Well, funny thing is, there are only a handful of computer
records for him in every case and the hardcopy files have no ID
picture."
Joe nodded as if expecting this. "He's Immortal all right.
Nobody's better at messing up a paper trail than they are."
"I'm beginning to see that," Hammond sighed ruefully. "What I
need is for you to find him for me."
"Do I wanna know why?"
"I'm thinking of hiring him."
"Hiring?!" Joe sputtered then a light seemed to go off inside his
head as the pieces started falling into place. First Methos, then
MacLeod, then the de Valicourts and who knew how many others the
military was recruiting. He didn't know why and right now he
didn't really care, it just seemed like...poetic justice. For all
the hell Immortals sometimes put their Watchers through. A Drill
Instructor who couldn't die -- though by the time he was done
with them they'd probably want to kill him. Dawson smiled as he
opened his laptop.
"Just give me a minute, George. I'll see what I can do."
***
"Got it," Joe looked up from his computer perhaps an hour later.
They'd been interrupted when he'd had to close the bar. In the
meantime, Hammond had made good use of the break to contact
O'Neill and get an update on the situation back at the base. He'd
left for Paris almost as soon as the colonel had confirmed
Pierson's plan would work. Alexander had been settled in --
Hammond shook his head still trying to comprehend that fact --
while Ptahsennes and Ramirez were on their way.
"You know where he is?" Hammond asked coming to stand behind
Dawson.
"I do. Even got a bio for you," the Watcher smiled. "Seems this
guy Bear is military start to finish," he leaned back. "Real
impressive resume," he whistled. "He first shows up in 1862 with
the 54th Massachusetts Infantry. We think that's where he had his
first death. At James Island where the first 'colored' troops of
the Civil War saw action."
"Nothing before that?"
"Sorry," Joe shrugged looking somewhat embarrassed. "The, uh,
Watcher who saw him was on the Confederate side. Although he did
look the other way when Bear revived and let him get away. That's
saying a lot for him though," he added at Hammond's look of
distaste. "We had one guy during the war liked to kill any
Immortal in the Union Army he came across. His defense was that
the North already had an unfair advantage in arms and men. We
executed him by the way. I've got the transcript of his trial
somewhere if you're interested."
"Maybe later," Hammond sighed. "Anything else?"
"Some," Joe told him. "He turns up again in 1864 at the Battle of
Honey Hill attached to the 35th United States Colored Troops
where he dies again. He's off the radar for a while after that
until he's spotted in Montana in 1873 working as a Buffalo
soldier helping to tame the west. He transfers from fort to fort
every few years then settles down with the 25th Infantry after
the Spanish-American War as a Drill Instructor which is where
your grandfather met him. Retires from the Army in '29, teaches
for a while at a Boston military academy then re-enlists in '35
where he's recruited by the Marines to be a Drill Instructor for
the first black regiment in '42. You pretty much know the rest of
his active duty. In between stints it seems he likes to teach.
Always at a military academy." Joe glanced up, smiling. "Guess he
likes the discipline."
"A lot to be said for that," Hammond agreed. "And he seems to be
just what I'm looking for. Have you got a current location on
him?"
"Sure do," Joe nodded. "He's at the Bronzeville Military Academy
in Chicago. Now, you wanna tell me anything?"
"Actually, Joe, I have a very special assignment for you if
you're willing to accept my offer. It's a little extraordinary,
but I believe the Watchers serve a useful purpose in documenting
the activities of Immortals. Would you be interested?"
"I might be. Depends," he added. "What would I have to do?"
"Just take notes and serve drinks."
"In Colorado Springs?"
"Not exactly," Hammond admitted. "That's where you'll be briefed.
And you will have the right to refuse even after we've explained
the situation. Of course, everything you do learn will be
classified -- even your chronicles until we give the okay. But in
the meantime, Joe, you'd be the only Watcher keeping a record of
this. I can't spare the manpower, nor would I to keep tabs on
these people. But they are important and for the sake of history
I will authorize you to do it."
Joe nodded thoughtfully then finished his drink. "What they
hell," he grinned. "I'm MacLeod's Watcher and I'd probably follow
him there anyway. At least this way, I can get the real skinny."
"And without violating national security," Hammond agreed. "So
you'll do it?"
"Sure, George, count me in."