A HIGHLANDER Story
by Scott Stadelman
The rain was coming down in soft sheets, as though someone had decided to bathe the city in a long, steady drizzle. Like any other busy, modern, industrial metropolis, the city was buzzing with traffic on the highways, yet it was already 6:00 in the evening. The rain could not dampen the choking fragrance of smog and pollution in the air, however, though it might suppress it somewhat. It wasn’t the only thing suppressed by the onslaught of rain. A young woman, running from a tall, black-clad figure, screamed in vain as he withdrew a wicked-looking knife and approached her cowered body in the back of the alley. "Please," she begged, "don’t hurt me. I don’t even know you. Why have you been chasing me?"
"You have something that I want," he snarled. "I believe it was given to you by your brother. Now, give it to me, or else I will be forced to do something drastic!"
* * * * * * * * * *
"Yo, Mac, give me a hand, will ya?"
A tall, striking man with long, black hair, wearing a gi, reached down to take the speaker’s hand. "Look, Richie, you’ve gotta stop going at this like it’s a boxing match. Don’t keep your weight forward, or, when you lunge, you’ll be overextended and unbalanced. All it takes is a good parry and sidestep to drop you."
"Thanks for the advice, Mac," replied the young man, blond haired and blue eyed. How can you feel right about taking advantage of a guy who’s almost 400 years younger than you are?"
"It’s not ‘taking advantage’ of you, Richie," Duncan explained. "It’s showing you the hard way what does and doesn’t work when it comes to hand-to-hand combat. Come on, let’s go get cleaned up and then we’ll see about dinner."
They began walking to the back of the dojo when, suddenly, both men felt a foreign buzzing in their heads. "Richie, go upstairs and search the roof. I’m going down to the street."
"Right," agreed Richie as he ran up the stairs, sword in hand.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Please, I don’t know what you mean. I don’t have anything of yours. Why can’t you just leave me alone?" she cried out.
"Your brother," the man explained, "was responsible for . . ."
The man, sensing someone approaching, cut his words off in mid-sentence. The man turned, reaching into his overcoat for something yet unseen.
"Why don’t you leave the girl alone," Duncan stated, the dragon’s head hilt extending past the end of his hand.
* * * * * * * * * *
The coach rumbled over the cobblestone, making its way toward the outskirts of Paris. Inside, two men and a woman were engrossed in conversation.
"No, we must go," stated the first, a tall man with a Scottish accent. "Dauber has betrayed us. The Revolutionaries will be waiting to drag us to the guillotine. We must flee Paris."
"But Duncan," answered the strikingly beautiful woman, "we cannot leave the rest behind! They will fall to the guillotine just as surely as we would if we were to stay in the city!"
"MacLeod has the right idea," replied the third man, named Bartol. "We have to leave Paris immediately!"
"Now calm yourself down, Jeannette," commanded MacLeod. "Once we get outside the city, we will send word back for the others. There is nothing else we can do without putting ourselves in further danger."
The coach continued past the gates and into the surrounding countryside. After traveling a few miles, the occupants directed the coachman to stop. MacLeod and his companions exited the coach and instructed the driver to go back, then began the long walk west towards the ocean.
Suddenly, MacLeod reached for his rapier, sensing another’s presence.
"Dauber, damn you, you set us up!" he exclaimed.
"Yes," replied Dauber. "Well, Robspierre and his men pay handsomely for the return of a few radicals charged with treason!"
"How dare you!" exclaimed Jeannette. "We trusted you, thought of you as a friend!"
"And that has been your undoing, my fair Jeannette!"
MacLeod attacked Dauber, lunging with his rapier. Without a word, Dauber withdrew a pistol and shot MacLeod in the chest. He then proceeded to dispatch Bartol as well. Only Jeannette was spared a bullet.
"What have you done!" she cried.
"Come now, Jeannette. With MacLeod out of the way, you are mine!"
With a scream, Jeannette lunged at Dauber. Clawing at his arm, she managed to knock the pistol out of his hand. However, as she grabbed it, Dauber withdrew a hidden pistol from underneath his jacket. As Jeannette wheeled around with the weapon, Dauber fired. "What a shame," he sighed.
Suddenly he felt the presence of another. "I see you’ve come around, MacLeod. Too late, though. They died like pigs. But, now it is time for me to go. If I were you, I’d leave before Robspierre’s men find you."
"One day we will meet again," replied Duncan. "and when we do, you will be the one left dying on the ground!"
* * * * * * * * * *
"Come now, Dauber, surely you can find other women who would be willing to go home with you. This one obviously isn’t."
"I have no quarrel with you, Highlander," Dauber explained, caressing his sword. "Her brother killed a good friend of mine, and I intend to have revenge!"
Suddenly, both men become aware of another entering the alleyway. "Hey, Mac, I see we have some company."
"Richie, come take this young woman inside. The man and I have some business to take care of."
‘Yeah, sure Mac. Anything you say."
Richie picked the young woman up and helped her to the entrance of the dojo.
"Look, Dauber, why don’t you just leave the poor girl alone?" asked Duncan. "What has she done to hurt you?"
"MacLeod, stay out of this. I didn’t come here to take your head. I only want to repay the girl for what her brother did to me."
"Dauber, we both know what kind of a man you are. If I leave her to you, the police will be pulling her body out of the Sound tomorrow. I can’t let that happen, no matter what her brother may have done to you."
"Her brother busted a deal I’d spent three years setting up. He shot my partner, then took off with a package he stole from him. I came after him. Before I killed him, he said he’d given the stolen package to her. I want it back. It’s as simple as that."
"I don’t care what her brother did, dammit! That gives you no right to take your vengeance out on her. Leave!"
"Don’t cross me, Highlander. The last time you tried to stop me, your friends died. It would be a shame to have that happen again."
"Is that supposed to frighten me, Dauber? Get out of here."
"I’ll be back, MacLeod. You can count on that."
* * * * * * * * * *
"Are you all right?", Richie said as he led the woman up the stairs and into the dojo. "That guy was a real pain. He didn’t hurt you, did he?"
"No, I’m pretty much OK. I’m just shook up, that’s all. He really scared me."
Hearing footsteps, Richie turned around. "I don’t think he will be bothering you for a while," Duncan directed towards the woman. "By the way, I’m Duncan MacLeod, and this is my friend Richie Ryan."
"My name’s Samantha," she replied. "I’m pleased and very grateful to have met you both. I appreciate you helping me, but I have to find someone who lives around here. I need to get going. Thank you so much." She began walking to the elevator.
"Whoa, hold on a minute," said Richie. "You realize the guy is still going to look for you, and as soon as you leave he’ll be after you again."
"Richie’s right," added Duncan. "Until we can be certain Dauber’s gone, you aren’t safe if you leave the dojo."
"But I must go!", Samantha exclaimed. "I swore to my brother that I would deliver this package to it’s rightful owner." Samantha bolted to the elevator, heedless of Duncan and Rich’s pleas to wait.
* * * * * * * * * *
Samantha ran out into the street, not knowing where to look. "Well," she thought to herself, "I’ll just pick up a phone book and look for this guy’s address. It shouldn’t be too hard to find." Walking down the street, she came to a phone booth. "Perfect," she said to herself. Soon, she had picked out the name Joe Dawson and had his address set in her memory. She then began walking towards her new destination.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Hey, Mac, you know that guy, don’t you."
Duncan and Richie had just sat down to eat when Richie decided it was time to broach the subject of what happened earlier. "Yeah, I’ve run into Dauber before. He’s scum, always has been, always will be. He’s known for taking advantage of others who are weaker than he is. It’s been a long time since I ran into him. The last time I met him was in 1824, in Paris . . .
* * * * * * * * * *
The tall rider looked imposing as he rode his horse down the tree-lined boulevard. His regal dress reminded the peasants of a nobleman. He rode up to the manor, dismounted and tied his horse up to the nearest tree, a majestic oak. He hadn’t walked ten paces towards the building when he sensed the presence of another. Suddenly, a man burst forth from the front doors of the mansion, stumbling as he flew down the stairs, blood running down one cheek, glistening rapier in hand.
"Dauber!" exclaimed the startled rider, pulling an exquisite katana, complete with a dragon’s head carved in the ivory hilt, from underneath his cloak. "What a coincidence. I came back as a memory to my friends, and I run into their murderer. I guess I’ll get my revenge after all!"
"I have no quarrel with you, MacLeod," the other man stated. "Now, let me pass."
Observing several peasants looking their way, MacLeod’s hand paused with his blade half drawn. "Only because this isn’t the time or place, Dauber. You won’t be as lucky next time."
Slowly, the tall rider replaced the samurai blade under his cloak and stepped aside. As the other man mounted his horse, an ear-piercing scream was heard from the manor. MacLeod turned back to the rider just in time to see him wheel around, laugh, and exit at a gallop. MacLeod ran into the house, afraid of what he would find. Inside, he discovered a maid cradling the blood-stained body of a beautiful young lady. "He killed her!" wailed the maid.
"What happened," queried MacLeod.
"The man who just left, Stephen Dauber. He claimed to be in love with her. My lady had no such feelings for him, and she told him thus. He said he would not be scorned by her. He kept on pressing her, but she would not yield, no matter how many times he called upon her and pleaded."
"He wouldn’t let her go?" MacLeod interjected.
"No, he wouldn’t," she sobbed. "He came today with the intention of taking m’lady with him. He said they would start a beautiful life together in America. She refused his advances for the last time. He became very angry, and grabbed m’lady, telling her she would come with him. She scratched at his face, angering him immensely. He drew his rapier and pierced her through the heart. I witnessed the event from the top of the railing, horrified with what I saw. I was so afraid of him coming back; I waited until I was sure he had gone before approaching m’lady. When I realized that he had indeed killed her, I . . . I broke down."
"This is the last time he’ll get away with it," thought Duncan.
* * * * * * * * * *
"So," said Richie, "this guy has a real problem with women. That means Samantha is in big trouble.
"That’s one of the reasons why I wanted to keep her here," replied Duncan.
"You know, you could talk to Joe and see if he can’t him track this Dauber down. If we can find out where he is staying, we might be able to get between him and Samantha."
"It’s worth a try, Richie. I’ll check in on Joe first thing tomorrow. Right now, thought, I think it’s about time for practice. I want to see if you’ve been able to master those blocks and parries I showed you last time."
"Come on, Mac, not tonight. After the whipping you gave me this afternoon I’m bushed."
"Exactly the reason why we’re going to practice now!"
* * * * * * * * * *
She turned off the main street and walked a short way towards the bar. It was then that she realized it was almost dark. Deciding to get a room instead of finding Joe, she turned back and headed for the nearest motel she could afford. Coming to a respectable-looking place, she decided to go in and see the manager about a room. Not five minutes later she walked out with a key in her hand, heading for her assigned room. She never saw the man who had been following her. As Samantha opened the door and went inside, Dauber chuckled softly to himself. "Tomorrow I shall have the package in my possession once more. It’s just a matter of time. . ."
He turned around and melted back into the shadows of the approaching night.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Dammit, Mac, take it easy, will ya'?"
Richie began to pick himself up off the floor after Duncan handily defeated him. "Come on, Richie, don't give up, you've just begun to really get the hang of using a sword as an extension of your body and mind."
"Yeah, feed me some more of that Yen-voodoo b.s. I've had it for tonight, Mac. Let's quit for now, OK?"
"Well, I suppose we can quit now if you're that whipped."
Richie lunged at Duncan after the insult so craftily dished out by MacLeod. "Come on, attack!" yelled Duncan. "Yes, feel the sword, let it act as a part of you!"
As the sparring dragged on, Richie began to realize just how right Duncan was. Soon, he was parrying and attacking with enough skill to force Duncan to exert himself. After ten minutes of strenuous fighting, the two finally broke apart.
"Enough," said Duncan. "You've done extremely well, Richie. Let's pack it up for now. We'll continue some other time."
"Sounds good to me," panted Richie, "cause I'm bushed."
"Just wait 'til you have to do it for real."
* * * * * * * * * *
"Excuse me, are you Joe Dawson?" the young woman inquired, soaked to the skin from the early morning rain.
A sleepy-eyed Joe awoke to the sound of someone pounding annoyingly at his door. "Yeah, I'm Joe. Who wants to know?"
"Thank goodness I've finally found you. My name is Samantha Drake, and I have in my possession a package which belongs to you. My brother James told me I must deliver it to you. So, here it is. I hope it's not damaged."
Samantha thrust out a package the size of a large tome, placing it in the hands of a startled Joe Dawson. He gingerly took it in his hands, examining it and testing its weight. "Seems to be a rather large book," stated Dawson. "Do you have any idea what might be in it?"
"No," replied Samantha. "All I know is that it's been a bitch trying to track you down, if you know what I mean. Do you mind if I come in?"
"Damn, where are my manners? Of course you can come in. There's a dry towel in the bathroom, second door on the left. If you want me to, I can get a pot of coffee brewing for you."
"That would be wonderful. Thank you so much."
As Samantha walked into the bathroom, Joe laid the package down on the countertop and opened it. He wasn't prepared for the surprise he received when he viewed the drawing on the cover of the aged book.
* * * * * * * * * *
The black Thunderbird pulled up alongside Joe’s Bar at 10:00 am the next morning, top down. MacLeod killed the engine and exited the car, shutting the door gently as he got out. He entered the bar through the main entrance, then looked towards the bar.
"Mac. I didn’t expect to see you here today," exclaimed Joe Dawson. "What brings you by?"
"Nothing much, really," replied Duncan. "I thought we’d sit down and have a few. You know, talk a little."
"Now, Duncan, you’ve never been much for small talk," Joe answered as he drew a fifth of brandy and two shot glasses from under the bar counter. "Why don’t you tell me what it really is that has brought you to my humble establishment."
"I never can fool you, can I, Joe?"
"You never could, Duncan."
"Well, to tell you the truth, Joe, I need a favor from you. I came upon a young lady yesterday, who just happened to have been cornered by a certain Immortal who was of the mind to hurt her. After I convinced this . . . other Immortal to leave, I had a brief chance to talk to this woman. However, she left in a hurry, and I’m afraid that this other Immortal will go after her again. I was wondering if you could, per chance, look up on this, uh, other Immortal. You know, let me know if he is still after this poor woman."
"Let me get this straight, Mac," replied Joe. "You want me to abuse my position to gain information for you, an Immortal, about another, rival Immortal. Sounds to me like all you want is a Quickening."
"Come on now, Joe, have you ever known me to be like that? I’m just worried that Dau. . . I mean, that this other Immortal will come after her again. You know how I am about defenseless women."
"Well, Mac, I’ll think about it. Which Immortal are you referring to?"
"His name," replied MacLeod, "is Stephen Dauber."
"I’ll see what I can do. I’ll give you a ring later, all right?"
"Thanks, Joe. I really appreciate this."
* * * * * * * * * *
Joe examined the book carefully, determined not to open it until he had sufficiently studied the cover with its ancient, yet so familiar, markings. MacLeod hadn’t been gone five minutes when there was a clatter from the bathroom.
"Sorry, Joe. I’ll clean up the mess myself," exclaimed Samantha as she opened the door. "I dropped the shampoo bottle on the floor and it popped open. Do you have any paper towels I could use?"
"Yeah. They’re by the edge of the bar," replied Joe. "Say, you never did tell me why you were in such a hurry to get ahold of me. Do you mind if I ask why?"
"Well, to tell you the truth, it’s a pretty weird story."
"I’ve heard enough of those. One more won’t matter much."
"Well, then, I guess I’ll start from the beginning, just before my brother left the book in my possession."
* * * * * * * * * *
It was an extremely warm day, even for Southern California. One would have been hard pressed to believe it was over 100º F outside, however. The perpetual layer of smog overshadowing L.A. would lead one to think it was an overcast day. A young man, dressed in a fairly posh three-piece suit walked up to the 3rd floor of the apartment complex and opened the door to apartment 3D21. He carried a large, bulky package with him.
"Samantha, I’m here!" exclaimed the young man.
"What took you so long?" she replied. "I expected you over an hour ago!"
"You know how traffic moves around here. Anyway, I don’t have much time. I need you to do me a very important favor. I don’t have time to ask anyone else to do this."
"Well, what is . . ," she began.
"Shhh," he interrupted. "I need you to just sit back and listen. Like I said, I don’t have much time at all."
She nodded her head in answer.
"See this package? It’s very important that it gets delivered to a certain man in Seattle by the end of the week. Unfortunately, I am occupied for the next few days, so I cannot take it to him myself. And it must be delivered in person. I can’t afford to send it parcel post."
"Who does it need to be delivered to?" Samantha queried.
"The gentleman’s name is Joe Dawson. As I said before, it is imperative that he receive this package as soon as possible."
"But why can’t you do it?" she asked. "Where are you going that you have to leave in such a rush?"
"It would take to long to explain, and you wouldn’t believe me anyway."
"Can’t you give me any explanation?"
"All I can say is that, once you reach him, you need to tell him that it is related to his work. Now, I really must be . . ."
"Wait!" she interrupted. "Isn’t there anything else you can tell me? Anything at all?"
"No. I have to go now. Take care, little sister."
* * * * * * * * * *
"And that’s all he said to you?" asked Joe. "He didn’t tell you anything else?"
"No," replied Samantha, "that was it."
"Hmm," grunted Joe, stroking his beard in concentration. "I take it there isn’t anything else you remember that might help explain why this was sent to me?"
"No. You mean to tell me you don’t know what’s in the book?"
"I have an idea, one that I will be able to verify once I open the tome. However, I want to be alone when I examine it."
"Yes, and I must be going as it is," she replied. "It’s been a pleasure meeting you, and I hope whatever is in the book will help you. Good-bye, Joe Dawson."
"Would you like me to call a cab to take you to the airport? It’s the least I can do for you."
"No thanks, Joe. I’ll get one myself. Besides, I need to pick up my things at the motel."
"Where are you staying at? At least I can give you a lift."
"I’m at the Seagull Inn. Don’t bother with the ride, though. It’s just down the road a ways. Thanks anyways!"
The door made a soft scraping sound when it closed behind her.
* * * * * * * * * *
She was startled by the brightness of the late morning sun. Like most visitors, she expected Seattle to be permanently overcast, always on the edge of rain. The colors around her seemed to leap out in contrast to the dreariness she witnessed that morning and the day before, and they were altogether different from the haziness which had permanently dulled her world in L.A. She was much too enthralled with drinking in the surrounding beauty to notice the tall, sulking man who fell in step 100 feet behind her.
She took a moment to enjoy the surrounding scenery. This part of Seattle was quite beautiful, actually. It was nestled near the edge of Puget Sound, and the smell of sea water and the cry of seagulls filled the air. Samantha took her time, all the while held prisoner to the clean, fresh morning air. Finally, after loitering around until almost four in the afternoon, she turned away from the shore, 100 yards distant, and began walking again toward the motel. It would take her only a few minutes to arrive there.
She approached her room, drawing the key from her purse and inserting it in the door. She had only turned the handle when she was shoved from behind into the room.
* * * * * * * * * *
Joe sat down at his computer, intent on checking up on Stephen Dauber as a favor to MacLeod. Soon, he had tapped in to the Watchers data base. Joe quickly typed in the Immortal’s name, and watched as the recordings of Dauber’s latest excursions scrolled down the screen. When it was done downloading, Joe printed off a copy.
Examining the print out, Joe realized that the last entry by Dauber’s Watcher was made three days ago. That was odd, considering the amount of time Watchers spent each day keeping tabs on Immortals. On a whim, Joe also accessed the name of Dauber’s Watcher. Joe nearly jumped out of his chair when he saw the name: James Drake.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Richie, give me a hand with this board, will ya?"
"Sure thing Mac, I’ll be right there."
Duncan and Richie were at the old farmhouse that Duncan had bought just months ago. In bad shape, they were spending as much time as they could repairing the old, rotten and mildewed wood, in hopes of restoring the house to its original condition. Now, they were busy replacing the railing which laced the stairs at the front of the house.
"Do you thing Joe’ll come up with anything, Mac?" asked Richie.
"Hard to say, Richie," replied Duncan. "But, knowing Joe, if there is anything to dig up, he’ll find it."
"Yeah, I guess you’re right."
Their work lasted until late afternoon, when they finally left the house and returned to the dojo.
* * * * * * * * * *
"I told you that I would take back what is mine, didn’t I? Give me the book! I must have it!"
Samantha hit the wall with her shoulder as Dauber let go of her and slammed the door behind him. "I don’t have the damn book anymore!" she exclaimed. "Why can’t you just leave me alone, you son of a bitch!"
"You have no need to protect your brother anymore," stated Dauber. "He died at my hand three days ago. I will do the same to you, of course. Unless you give me the book!"
"You bastard!" she cried. "I gave it to the person it belonged to. I don’t have it anymore, don’t you understand that?"
"Fine. Tell me who has it then."
"Why, so you can kill him like you killed James?" asked Samantha. "Not a chance in hell!"
"Very well then," replied Dauber, reaching underneath his trenchcoat to reveal the familiar design of a knife. "I will have to get the information out of you the hard way!"
* * * * * * * * * *
Joe hurried over to the book, convinced now that its contents were very important. He opened it slowly, afraid to damage the seemingly ancient binding with the Watchers insignia burned into the cover. Joe stopped just before the first page, instinctively grabbing a bottle of scotch. He poured himself a shot, downed it swiftly, and placed both bottle and glass back underneath the countertop within easy reach. He anticipated he might need a few more drinks by the time he finished reading. He turned back to the book, careful to slowly turn the parchment-like pages. He began to read, aprehensive yet excited at the same time. The handwriting was extremely aged, almost unreadable with its intricate penmanship. The first sentence chilled Joe to the bone: "This archive chronicles the. . ."
* * * * * * * * * *
Richie and Duncan arrived at the dojo around 5:00 that evening, tired from their day’s exertion. "Do you think Samantha was able to find the guy she was so adamant about giving the package to?" asked Richie.
"I hope so," replied Duncan. "I also hope that she didn’t run into Dauber again, although I’m not very optimistic about that. He’s not one to let things go, and I doubt that girl was wary enough to watch out for him. There’s not much we can do about it now, though."
"I suppose you’re right," answered Richie. "It’s out of our hands."
"Aren’t I always?" replied MacLeod.
"You know what, that new Clancy film is out, and I haven’t been to the theater for a while. I think I’ll go see it. Wanna come?"
"No, thanks for asking though. I’m going to stay here and read the paper, I think."
"Fine. Later, Mac."
* * * * * * * * * *
She slumped against the wall, a spreading pool of blood surrounding her, oozing from a hole in her chest. Dauber wiped the blade off on her blouse, then placed it in its sheath underneath his jacket. Smiling, he strode out of the room and towards the door, going over in his mind any object he might have left fingerprints on. Satisfied that none were left, he opened the door, wiping off the railing outside. He then gently shut the door and glided down the stairs, intent upon paying this Joe Dawson a visit.
* * * * * * * * * *
Joe downed his fifth shot as he closed the tome. He was startled, horrified by the accounts of this horrible ledger; he found it impossible to think. Finally, after what seemed like an hour of silence, though it was really only a few minutes, he picked up the book and walked over to his small library. Moving aside a certain section, he revealed a small wall safe. Spinning the combination dial, he placed the book inside and shut the thick steel door, giving the dial a few spins for good measure. He then walked back to the bar, pouring yet another shot and downing it. Finally, he ambled over to the phone, picking it up and dialing a familiar number.
"Come on, Mac, answer the damn phone," he mumbled.
Sure enough, after three rings, MacLeod’s familiar voice answered.
"Hello?"
"It’s Joe, Mac. Thank God you’re there."
"What’s wrong, Joe? What did you find out about Dauber?"
"I’d rather not discuss what I discovered over the phone, Mac. Could you come on over?"
"Sure, I guess I could. This must be really important, Joe."
"You have no idea. I’ll see you in 15 minutes?"
"Sounds good, Joe. I’m on my way."
* * * * * * * * * *
Mac hung up the phone, curious as to why Joe insisted he come over in such a hurry. "Oh well," thought Mac, "I guess he must be anxious to let me know what he found out."
Leaving a note on the counter for Ritchie, Duncan grabbed his overcoat and opened the grating to the elevator. For some reason he stopped, turning back toward the room. Reaching down, he picked the katana up off the couch and slid it underneath his overcoat. Satisfied, he returned to the elevator and descended to the bottom floor.
* * * * * * * * * *
"911 emergency," said the voice on the phone.
"Yes, uh, I have a tenant who has been seriously wounded. I need an ambulance now. My address is 4041 23rd Street. Please hurry!"
"There is an ambulance on the way," answered the operator. "What condition is the person in right now?"
"She’s lost alot of blood and she’s unconscious, but she’s still breathing. She’s bleeding from what looks to be a stab wound in her chest."
"All right. Take your hand and place it over the wound to stop the bleeding. Is the victim in an upright position?"
"Yes, she’s leaning against a wall. Where’s that ambulance?"
"It’s almost there. Don’t move her then, and keep pressure on the wound."
"OK, I can hear the ambulance. Now what?"
"Stay on the line until the paramedics tell you to hang up. Let me know when they enter the house."
"They’re coming up the stairs; now they are in the apartment."
The paramedics rushed into the room and quickly surveyed the situation.
"Damn you, Ralph, get you’re ass up here with that oxygen!" exclaimed the first.
"Here!" commanded Ralph, handing the first medic a metal canister.
"OK, let’s stabilize her. Get a blood pressure reading, Sam."
Soon, the paramedics had Samantha sufficiently stabilized to allow them to move her. Carrying her on the stretcher to the ambulance, the first medic called back to the landlord, still on the phone with the 911 emergency operator.
"You can hang up now, everything is under control."
Click.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Mac can’t be here already," thought Joe as he rose to answer the knock at his door.
Joe walked over to the door to open it, then hesitated. He knew it couldn’t be Duncan, and tonight the bar had closed early. The knock came again. Inspired by some sixth sense, Joe made his way around the back to the rear door, yelling, "Give me a minute or two, I’m in the john!". Walking out the back door as quietly as he could, Joe went around the building to give himself a clear view of the front door. Standing there was a man holding a large knife in his hand. He looked vaguely familiar to Joe. Suddenly, Joe realized he’d seen the face staring at him from a computer screen. Stephen Dauber! Joe quietly made his way back into the building. Hurriedly, he shuffled to his personal library where he left the tome. Taking it out, Joe reached under the counter to grab his car keys. He then made his way towards the rear exit again, shouting "Give me another minute, and I’ll be out!". He then ambled over to his car, placing the book in the front passenger seat. Hurriedly, he started the engine and, as quietly as possible, pulled out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of the dojo.
* * * * * * * * * *
Duncan got in the Thunderbird, revving the engine. Putting the transmission in drive, he pulled away from the curb and began making his way to Joe’s. He hadn’t drove five miles when he noticed a familiar vehicle approaching. Sure enough, the lights flashed as Mac recognized Dawson’s Explorer. Duncan pulled to the side of the road and jumped out.
"Joe!" exclaimed Mac. "What the hell are you doing? I thought I was going to meet you at the bar?"
"Mac, we got ourselves a real big problem," replied Dawson. "Is it all right if we go back to the dojo and talk?"
"Sure, no problem. What’s got you so riled up?"
"You don’t really want to know, Mac, trust me. This problem with Dauber is alot bigger than either of us imagined. Let’s go."
* * * * * * * * * *
The door buckled inward on the third hit. Dauber walked boldly into the bar, heedless of who or what might be there. Almost instantly he realized that Joe was not around anymore. Methodically, Dauber began searching the bar for any clues to the whereabouts of the ledger. He strolled over to the bookshelf, searching for the probable hiding spot. Throwing books aside, he came upon the wall safe. "I never was a patient man," mumbled Dauber as he withdrew a small Colt .45 from under his coat and thumbed the safety. He fired once, twice at the safe, destroying the lock. Prying the door open with his knife, he peered into the safe. Nothing.
Dauber thoroughly trashed the bar on his way out.
* * * * * * * * * *
Mac led the way back to the dojo in the Thunderbird. Getting out, he walked over to the entrance, holding the door open for Dawson. He directed Joe to the elevator, and they rode up, silently.
Getting out on the top floor, Joe turned to Duncan.
"Mac, you aren’t going to believe what I’m about to say to you. In fact, I can’t even think of where to begin."
"What did you find out about Dauber, Joe?" asked Duncan. "And why did you come over here instead of waiting for me?"
"Dauber decided to pay me a little visit, although I have no idea how he got to me. Besides, it’s not really about Dauber, Mac" replied Joe. "It has to do with that girl you helped and what she gave me. Take a look at this; in fact, sit down and read the first few pages."
Joe handed MacLeod the book, then sat down in the couch and made himself comfortable.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Come on, let’s get her in to the emergency room now!" shouted the paramedic.
The driver of the ambulance jumped out of the driver’s seat and proceeded to the back, helping the speaker pull the gurney out of the vehicle. "Get me a doc now!" jerked the driver to a nurse running out of the emergency room. "I’ve got a victim with a stab wound to the chest. She’s loosing alot of blood!"
As the nurse turned back, the two paramedics began rolling the gurney towards the door. At the entrance they were met by the on-call surgeon. "I need vital signs now! What kind of condition was she in when you got to her?" asked the doctor.
"She was unconscious and she’s lost alot of blood" came the reply.
"Ok, get her prepped for surgery now. We need to get her sewed up fast!"
After 40 minutes in the OR, Samantha was placed in critical condition, still unconscious.
* * * * * * * * * *
Duncan closed the tome slowly, a painful, worried look on his face. He resembled a man who had just been hit in the stomach with a hammer.
"Joe, I can’t even begin to believe what’s in this book. It’s impossible."
Joe looked up at him from the current issue of Sports Illustrated. "Tell me about it. I couldn’t believe it myself. I still don’t believe it."
"Do you realize what will happen if others find out about this book? People who don’t understand us and what we are? There would be a world-wide panic!" retorted MacLeod.
"Exactly," replied Dawson. "That’s why I wanted to show it to you. I’ve been thinking about it since I gave the book to you and I think I’m going to destroy it. I can’t chance letting it fall into the wrong hands."
"Don’t be so hasty, Joe," answered Duncan. "This book does not contain only harmful information. Even in the first few pages there was information which could be quite useful to other Watchers and other Immortals. This book isn’t purely evil."
"Too bad I can’t say the same about the rest of it. Besides, what happens when a guy like Dauber gets possession of it?"
* * * * * * * * * *
Samantha Drake awoke to the sterilized world of the hospital room. Gingerly, she moved her head and was able to see the IV in her left arm. Slowly reaching for the call button, she pressed it. Within a minute, a nurse appeared in her cubicle.
"How may I help you?" asked the nurse.
"Uh, how, uh, did I get here?" questioned Samantha.
"The owner of the motel you were at called 911 when he saw what happened. You were brought to the hospital, and the surgeon was able to sew you up before you left us."
"I need to talk to someone. Can you get me a phone please?" she begged.
"Maybe in a few more hours" replied the nurse. "Right now you need to get some more sleep and regain some strength."
The nurse wheeled around and left the cubicle.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Joe, do you have any idea how Dauber was able to find you?" asked Mac.
Joe pondered this for a moment and then wheeled about. "Of course!" he exclaimed. "You said Dauber was going after this Samantha Drake when you found him, correct?"
"Yeah" replied Duncan.
"Well, she was the one who brought me the book. She said it was given to her by her brother to give to me. Her brother, it turns out, was Dauber’s Watcher. According to the data base, it had been over three days since he had made his last entry concerning Dauber. You said that Dauber killed the girl’s brother. Obviously, Dauber must know about the book or else he wouldn’t have chased her. He must have followed her somehow when she left the dojo. He could’ve found me by following her."
"If that’s true, then she is probably in danger" Duncan retorted. "Did she tell you where she was staying?"
"She said she was at the Seagull Inn" answered Joe.
"Well, then, let’s go! She could be in trouble!"
As Joe turned towards the elevator, he caught a glimpse of Duncan stealthily placing the katana under his jacket.
* * * * * * * * * *
With his only lead gone, Dauber reluctantly returned to the inn in the hopes of finding some other information about where to find the book. When he got there, he realized that the girl had been discovered. Slowly, he circled the motel, appraising the presence of the police. Satisfied that he could find way in unnoticed, he sat down behind the inn and waited for the traffic in the area to go down. After waiting almost an hour, the police finally left the scene. As he raised himself up to enter the inn, that foreign yet familiar buzzing filled his head. Looking around, he noticed an old black convertible pulling off the road. He watched as the driver gazed about, obviously looking for Dauber. The engine died, and the driver and his passenger got out. Looking at the silhouette of the driver, he suddenly recognized him. MacLeod!
* * * * * * * * * *
"He’s here, isn’t he?" queried Dawson, watching Duncan tense as he stepped out of the car.
"Yes, he is," answered MacLeod. "Stay here," he stated as he drew his blade from beneath his jacket.
Duncan walked towards the inn, peering around in an effort to find the Immortal. He slowly circled the building, anxious yet calm in that way he had. Suddenly, he heard a noise behind him. Whirling around, he saw Dauber running through an alleyway and out of sight. Content that he no longer posed a threat, Duncan replaced the katana beneath his coat.
"Mac, get over here, now!" exclaimed Joe, obviously not at the car anymore.
MacLeod ran to the front of the inn, finding Joe standing next to one of the rooms. "Come look at this," stated Joe.
Walking up to the door, Duncan saw the familiar yellow tape stating "Crime Scene Do Not Pass" on its side. Ducking underneath, he walked through the open door held by Dawson. "Damn, he got to her," stated MacLeod.
"She might still be alive," replied the Watcher. "There’s no body outline."
"Come on, we’ve got to check the hospital," said MacLeod.
They hurried back to the Thunderbird and drove off.
* * * * * * * * * *
After running down the alley, Dauber stopped to think for a minute. Now certain that MacLeod was involved with this, he made up his mind to return to the dojo in order to dispose of him. Smiling to himself, he turned and headed back to where he first ran into MacLeod the day before.
* * * * * * * * * *
The T-bird screeched its way into the nearest parking slot at the hospital. Duncan hurried out of the driver’s seat, not waiting for the hobbling Dawson. He entered through the Emergency Room door and went directly to the receptionist desk
"Was a young woman brought in tonight by the name of Samantha Drake?" asked MacLeod of the uniformed man behind the desk.
"Let me check," he replied. "Yes, a woman by that name was admitted tonight about two hours ago with a stab wound to the chest. Are you her next of kin?"
"No," answered Duncan, "but I’m a good friend of hers. Where is she now?"
"She’s in room 3A12," stated the receptionist. "That’s the third floor, in the north wing."
"Thanks," replied MacLeod. Turning around, he found Joe at his elbow. "Follow me," ordered Duncan.
* * * * * * * * * *
Richie raised the grate on the elevator and walked into the kitchen. Looking around, he wondered where MacLeod had went. He turned towards the living room and spied the note MacLeod had left him. "Looks like he went to have a few with Joe," he thought.
He was just settling down to read the newspaper when he sensed someone downstairs. Convinced that Duncan had returned, he paid no attention to the feeling and continued to read. When MacLeod didn’t come up the elevator, Richie decided to go down into the dojo. Thinking that he could pull one over on MacLeod, he reached over and picked up his rapier from underneath his jacket and proceeding over to the elevator. Selecting the ground level, he leaned up against the back wall and waited for the descent.
* * * * * * * * * *
The two men walked out of the elevator and proceeded towards the north wing of the hospital. They came upon the room they wanted and slowly walked inside. Samantha Drake was in the far end of the room, her cubicle curtain open. Joe moved past MacLeod and leaned over the rail of the bed.
"Samantha?" he queried.
Slowly, the woman blinked her eyes open. "Joe," she whispered. "How did you find me?"
"That’s a long story," replied Dawson. "It was Dauber who did this to you, wasn’t it?" he asked.
Shaking here head up and down slightly, she replied "He must have trailed me from MacLeod’s place. He jumped me, and when I told him I didn’t have that book anymore he wasn’t too happy. He forced me to tell him where I took the book. That made him pretty mad. As you can probably tell, he took his anger out on me."
Duncan moved around the bed to get a better position. "That would explain how he found you, Joe," stated MacLeod.
"MacLeod and I are good friends, Samantha. You should have told him who you wanted to see when he helped you yesterday," chided Joe. "It would have made things alot simpler."
"I’m sorry, Joe. I didn’t mean for this to happen."
"That’s OK. I’m just glad to see that you’re all right now," replied Dawson.
MacLeod moved towards the door of the room. "Joe, stay here and watch over her to make sure Dauber doesn’t happen to come back. I’m going out to find him."
"Sure thing, Duncan," answered Joe. "Watch yourself."
Duncan walked out of the room with a smile on his face. "Don’t I always?" he replied.
* * * * * * * * * *
Dauber waited in the dojo, certain that it was MacLeod who was coming down the elevator. To his surprise, it was the boy Richie, not MacLeod.
"Dauber!" exclaimed Richie.
"That’s correct, boy," he answered. "Where is MacLeod?" he asked, drawing his sword out from behind him.
"He’s not here," replied Richie. "I am, though," he retorted, revealing the rapier.
"Don’t be a fool, boy," stated Dauber. "You’re no match for me. I want MacLeod, not you."
"I guess I’ll have to do," answered Richie, drawing up his blade.
* * * * * * * * * *
Duncan raced back to the dojo, thinking that Dauber would come to find him there. Taking a shortcut, he drove past the docks and turned back in towards the city. As he was drawing up to a railroad crossing, the swing arms lowered and the red lights began flashing. Pinned between the tracks and the cars behind him, MacLeod forced himself to wait. "Cut short, just like before," he thought.
* * * * * * * * * *
Duncan raced down the steps of the manor and mounted his steed. Digging his heels into its flanks, he raced down the tree-lined lane, intent on overtaking the murderous Dauber. The horse began to froth as Duncan pushed it to its limits in an effort to chase down Dauber. Suddenly, MacLeod spied the man down the path in front of him. Dauber, sensing the Immortal behind him, looked back. "I’m coming for you!" shouted MacLeod, urging his horse on even faster. Peasants looked at him quizzically, then turned back to their work. He was not two hundred yards from overtaking Dauber when one of the peasants, oblivious to the chase ensuing, drove his loaded horse-and-wagon onto the path, effectively blocking it. Cursing, MacLeod had to turn his horse into the trees and detour around the wagon, necessarily slowing down. When he got back onto the lane, he looked up to see Dauber entering the outskirts of Paris. Once inside the city, MacLeod could not confront him. "I’ll get you yet, Dauber!" exclaimed MacLeod as he slowed his steed. "Justice will be served!".
* * * * * * * * * *
"Have it your way, boy!" replied Dauber, bringing his sword up.
He lunged at Richie, who parried the blow and drew back to a defensive stance. Dauber took a different approach this time, faking the lunge in an attempt to draw out Richie. Instinctively, the boy moved to meet the stroke. Thinking that his prey was overbalanced, Dauber arced the blade downward. Just in time, Richie deflected the swing and counter-attacked. He swung the rapier in a controlled motion, and Dauber parried the attack. Both swordsmen drew back, attempting to find a weakness in the other’s defense. Suddenly, Dauber drew his sword over his head and arced it downward towards Richie. Richie met the blow again, pushing Dauber back. Suprisingly, Richie then attacked Dauber in an aggressive move. Instead of meeting the onslaught, Dauber stepped sideways, away from the stroke, and cut the boy across the back, forcing him down.
"Your finished, boy," he chuckled. "You should have taken my advice!"
He drew his blade back for the mortal stroke. As the blade arced downward, Richie swung the rapier back behind his head and blocked Dauber’s killing stroke. Richie whirled around and cut Dauber across the torso, then stood back up. Grunting in surprise and pain, Dauber stumbled back. Richie attacked one final time, slicing Dauber diagonally from shoulder to waist. Dauber cried out in pain, falling to his knees. Richie then kicked the sword from Dauber’s hand, stating, "This boy has a few suprises up his sleeve, wouldn’t you say?."
He drew his sword back and beheaded Dauber in one clean stroke.
* * * * * * * * * *
Finally, the drawbars withdrew to their resting position. MacLeod raced across the tracks and headed towards the dojo with a lead foot. After five minutes of fighting traffic, he turned the corner and pulled up next to the dojo. Suddenly, he felt the presence of another Immortal. As he got out of the car, he realized that there were two Immortals present besides him. Hearing the clash of metal, he deduced what must be happening, that Richie and Dauber were fighting to the death. Realizing that Richie was no match for Dauber, he ran towards the door. As he turned the handle, however, he stopped. A mysterious light suddenly appeared in the dojo, and electricity arched towards the ceiling. "No, not Richie!" moaned Duncan, rushing into the dojo, certain that his protégé had just lost his head.
* * * * * * * * * *
Richie arched his back as the Quickening roared through him. As before, the feeling was like nothing he’d ever experienced. It was as though he were being drained of all energy, yet at the same time he felt empowered by the forces which had hold of him. He yelled out as the last bolts of energy rushed into him. He then fell to his knees.
Duncan rushed into the room, blade in hand, horrified by the thought of what he would find. However, instead of Dauber standing over a headless corpse, he spied Richie kneeling in the middle of the floor. Alerted to his presence, Richie slowly turned around.
"Richie!" exclaimed MacLeod, walking over and embracing him. "Thank God you’re all right! I though for sure you’d taken a header, if you know what I mean."
"Glad to see you too, Mac," Richie replied, shrugging off Duncan. "That was way too close, though. I almost didn’t come out on top. I think I’ll take his advice next time and let the bad guys come after you. I did’t like it. I value my head too damn much."
"I’m glad to see you’re OK, though," answered MacLeod as he walked over to the elevator. "Stay here. I need to go upstairs and get something, and then we have to go and talk to Joe."
"Don’t worry, Mac, I’m not going anywhere," replied Richie. "I’m bushed."
* * * * * * * * * *
Duncan and Richie walked into the hospital room where Joe was keeping watch over a sleeping Samantha Drake.. Under his arm, MacLeod carried the book.
"Joe, we’ve got to decide what we’re going to do with this. It’s too dangerous to be left unguarded."
Dawson pondered the dilemma for a moment. "Well, we have two choices, really. We can either dispose of the book permanently, or we can put it away where no one will ever get to it."
Duncan thought about the proposals for a few minutes. Finally, he said, "I think we should destroy the book. We just can’t take the chance that someone like Dauber might find out about it and use it."
"I agree," Joe said.
"Fine," replied MacLeod. "Come by the dojo tomorrow and we’ll get rid of the book."
"See you then, Mac," answered Dawson.
* * * * * * * * * *
They stood together the next morning at the edge of the dock, each one engrossed in thought. Finally, MacLeod spoke.
"We should burn it. Any other way might leave the chance that someone could find it again."
"Very well," replied Joe, reaching behind him to draw out a can of lighter fluid from the bag behind him.
Dawson doused the tome in the fluid, attempting to soak the entire thing. MacLeod produced a match from his pocket and, with a single stroke, lit the head off the bottom of his shoe. He then tossed the lit match onto the book. The flames immediately took hold, lapping around the edges of the binding and burning down towards the core of it. After 20 minutes, both men were satisfied that the remains would be of use to no one. They walked back to their cars, got in, and went their separate ways.
* * * * * * * * * *
"It’s so good of you to come see me before they let me leave this place," said Samantha.
Before her stood Duncan and Richie. They had decided to come say good-bye before she left to go back home and attend her brother’s funeral. "It’s the least we could do," stated Richie.
"You won’t have to worry about Stephen Dauber anymore, Samantha," MacLeod said. "He won’t be bothering anyone ever again."
"How can I thank you for what you did for me?" she asked.
"Don’t mention it," replied Duncan. "It’s the least we could have done. Well, we’d better let you get out of here so you don’t miss your flight. Do you need a ride?"
"No, I’ve already called a cab. Thank you, though."
"Well, then, good-bye Samantha," stated MacLeod.
"Yeah, take care of yourself," said Richie.
"Good-bye, both of you, and again, thank you so much," answered Samantha.
* * * * * * * * * *
The two men walked out to the Thunderbird and got in. MacLeod turned the starter, revved the engine and pulled out of the hospital parking lot.
"So what was in the book, anyway?" asked Richie.
"Something better left unknown," replied Duncan as he steered the car away from the hospital and down the street, heading for the dojo.
The End