Chapter Sixteen
"What's going on?" Joe asked, locking the door behind Reggie. By mutual agreement, they both headed for the bar, Reggie for one side, Joe for the other. Joe poured both of them a glass of good whiskey.
"He worries me," Reggie said, accepting the glass Joe handed him with a nod of thanks. "He's had me following Duncan MacLeod around for weeks now; I give him a report every week." That explained how James had come to know that MacLeod had taken a student. It didn't answer the real question.
"Why?" Joe asked.
"He hasn't told me," Reggie said, after a sip of his whiskey. "But if you want to keep Adam Pierson's Immortality a secret for much longer, something's going to have to be done."
Joe choked on his whiskey.
"What are you talking about?" he asked once he'd stopped coughing. He hoped he sounded more convincing to Reggie than he did to himself.
"Joe. I know Adam Pierson, and I've been watching MacLeod for weeks. He trains Pierson on the deck of that barge every day. Unless MacLeod's taken to training mortals in swordplay, Pierson is Immortal. I'm fairly sure you already knew that, though." Reggie shifted on his bar stool.
"Listen," he continued, "neither you nor Pierson has anything to fear from me. I've always liked the lad, and the way things are these days, his Immortality is best kept a secret. I'm here because I'm worried that Horton will find out and do something drastic. The first few times I met with him, he was a little out of control, but this last time he was perfectly calm. The change is alarming."
Joe thought back to James's earlier visit. MacLeod wasn't his Immortal, and the sudden interest was, as Reggie said, alarming -- especially after some of the things Joe had heard him say about Immortals in the past.
"Thank you, Reggie," he said. "I appreciate the warning. If it helps, I told Horton that MacLeod's student's name is Eric something. If you make up a last name, let me know."
"Pitcher. Eric Pitcher," Reggie said. "It's always best to be prepared when you're doing this sort of thing. It's not going to be enough, though. Sooner or later, Horton is going to go and take a look for himself. Either that, or he'll send someone, and that person might know Adam. I don't know why Horton is fixated on MacLeod, but he is." He knocked back the rest of his whiskey and stood up.
"I'll do what I can," he said, offering Joe his hand. Joe took it.
"Thanks again," he said. "Keep me updated about James, will you?" He walked Reggie to the door.
"I'd be glad to." Reggie smiled and slipped out into the night. Joe locked the door behind him, still vibrating with tension and relief, and leaned against it.
"You're one lucky son of a bitch," he told the absent Methos. "Jesus." He shook his head and went back to the office to grab his coat. After the day he'd had, all he wanted was to crawl into bed and forget about things for a little while. Tomorrow, he was going to have words with MacLeod about practicing in plain sight.
***
The next day dawned bright and chilly. Methos knew this because both MacLeods dragged him out of bed just after daybreak and bullied him into going for a five mile run. By way of revenge Methos deliberately ran them into the ground, and reached the barge with a comfortable hundred yard lead.
He was stretching and waiting for the Highlanders to make their panting arrival when he felt another Immortal's presence buzzing in his head. Turning to look, he saw the man stepping off of the barge and onto solid ground.
"I'm Slan Quince," the man said, when he was a little closer. The studs and black leather were probably meant to make him look tough.
Instead, they made him look like he thought he looked tough.
"Of course you are," Methos sighed. He glanced over his shoulder. Duncan and Connor were still fifty yards away and -- thanks to him --
both of them had been run to exhaustion.
"They won't get here in time to save you," Quince said, with what he probably thought was an evil smile. "Where's your sword?" he asked. "If you beg, I might let you go and get it."
Methos rolled his eyes, pulled his gun from the waistband of his sweatpants, and shot Quince twice through the heart. By the time Duncan and Connor got there, he'd dragged Quince's body into the deeper shadows by the barge and had a look around for the man's Watcher. He didn't see anything, but then, that wasn't any kind of guarantee.
"Adam, what --" Duncan demanded, looking from Methos to Quince and back again. "Is that --"
"Slan Quince," Connor confirmed. "Good job, Adam." He looked over at Duncan. "Let's get him into the barge. When he wakes up, I'll challenge him."
"You can't fight him on the barge," Duncan objected.
"There's an alley right over there," Connor pointed.
"In that case, let's take him over there. I'd rather not have him on the barge."
"Fair enough." Between the two of them, they managed to get Quince into the alley, Methos bringing up the rear.
"Adam, you don't have to watch this," Duncan told him.
"He should stay," Connor said. "He needs to know as best he can what it's like before he has to do it himself." There's a gasp from Quince.
"It's a moot point anyway," Connor added, drawing his sword. "Come on, Quince. Get up and face me."
Quince got to his feet, looking around as if for a way out. When he saw Adam, he spat.
"You shot me."
"I don't think you'd have taken 'I'm not interested' as an answer."
"Probably not." Quince draws his sword. "After I kill MacLeod, you're next."
"Actually, I am," Duncan said quietly. Quince tried his evil smile again, but to Methos it looked like more of a sickly grin.
"Come on, then," he said, and slashed downwards at Connor's legs. Connor blocked the blow and followed up with a slice at Quince's neck
that almost connected. Methos and Duncan moved further down the alley, out of the way. Connor drew first blood, a cut along Quince's arm that did nothing to slow the man down. Quince struck back, nearly blooding Connor in return. Despite his ridiculous appearance, he was a competent swordsman, though a little too showy for his own good. He and Connor traded blows for a few minutes; then Quince over-extended himself. That was all it took.
Connor saw the opening and went for it, sending Quince's head tumbling free of his body. Methos and Duncan backed further away as Connor went to his knees under the first lightning strike.
It wasn't a particularly spectacular Quickening, but it was Adam's first, so Methos went wide-eyed, feigning just a trace of awe as Duncan went to help Connor to his feet.
"Up you get, cousin," Duncan said. Connor pushed his hand away and got to his feet under his own steam.
"I'm fine," he said. "I'm going back to the barge. I need a shower."