I Sing the Body Electric Pt 5 Highlander Ducan/Methos FRAO
December 12, 2185
Brahman, Greir and Hass
Attorneys at Law
Anthony Minnelli settled on the leather sofa in his lawyer’s office glaring at the tall, balding man. With a grimace the attorney motioned to the manila folder sitting opened on the broad expanse of his desk, as Minnelli said, “I don’t understand how they can still be bringing this case to trial without any witnesses.”
Jack Hass tapped his blunt fingered hand on the highly polished wood; “Apparently there is still one witness alive.”
“I don’t get it how could that have happened? It was on all the news programs--five witnesses and six cops, all dead in the safe houses in New York. I heard the reports a dozen times at least.”
“Yes, and that’s the problem, there were seven employees of the import firm that were being kept at the warehouse downtown; one of them died of some kind of seizure. That was noted in the police reports. But that left six witnesses, only five are dead. Somewhere there is one more witness, and one who has personal knowledge of everything that went on in the import firm recreation clubhouse. That means not only the paid escorts, but the illicit substance use and the video and wiretapping in the personal areas of the house.”
Minnelli ground out, “Hell, all of the boys were well trained; they knew exactly what was expected from them.”
“Yeah I’m sure they were, and if that kid rats you out, you’re gone not only for prostitution, but illegal wiretapping, and extortion and drugs. That’s one hell of a long rap.”
“Carroll Hamilton screwed up. I don’t know why, she’s always been reliable in the past.
But somehow she screwed this up. Why don’t you give her a call?”
After Minnelli had left the office Hass flipped though his Rolodex pulling up the number for Carroll Hamilton’s townhouse. He picked up the phone dialing the number himself instead of calling the switchboard. The phone rang five times and just as he was going to hang up, a voice answered. He asked to speak to Judge Hamilton, identifying himself as Jack Hass.
Judge Hamilton came on the line sounding miffed and breathless, “You’re not supposed to contact me at home.”
“I’m one of the attorneys in a case over which you are presiding. I am allowed to talk to you.”
“Yes, but only professionally. If it gets out that you called the DA will ask that I recues myself, and you’ll end up with Craig Donner full time instead just while I’m on sick leave.”
“Well, Your Honor, my client asked that I give you a call, It seems that you were remiss is delivering those documents we requested. It appears that only five actually can be confirmed, there appears to be one missing.”
Her voice caught nervously, “Oh my God, the Dawson boy. I forgot about him. He’s, or rather his file is at MacLeod’s house.”
“Ah, well, that mitigates this oversight. I’m sure that Detective MacLeod is all for sharing evidence. I’ll have someone take care of it today.”
Greene House Hotel,
December 15th,
The three of them had been in the suite for three weeks and MacLeod was sure that he was going to have to kill either Methos or Jerry Halwell. Methos spent every available moment he could tormenting the older looking man. And Halwell had threatened to spank Methos on several occasions. If it wasn’t forty-five minute baths or blaring rock music Methos seemed to glorify in finding anything and everything that annoyed MacLeod’s friend.
The two Detectives had been taking turns going down to the lobby everyday, using the business conference room to Fax documents to the court or the department or district attorney’s office.
Leaning back in the high backed chair at the end of the conference table Jerry Halwell sighed, “Yes, Judge Donner. I understand. No, the tech people are going to wire this conference room here at the hotel so that Adam can give his testimony via satellite.”
Donner’s voice carried over the line; “I’ll be turning the trial back over to Carroll tomorrow. She’s scheduled to come back on duty. Everything looks good from this end.”
“Fine your honor, we’ll have Adam ready.”
Department Six,
New York Superior Court
5:00 p.m.
Carroll Hamilton walked into the courtroom noting with satisfaction that all the preliminary work was completed. She also noted that Frank Donner had ordered that Adam Dawson be allowed to testify via satellite. That could be a problem he could be anywhere, perhaps no longer even in New York, although she felt certain that he hadn’t been allowed to leave the state. He was still under the protection of two NYPD detectives, and the department was not particularly open to having their best detectives haring off to parts unknown.
With a frown Hamilton settled into her desk, flipping through the jury selection documents, noting that the panel was well selected, and secured. Bribing the jury would not be an option here. Minnelli had been very vocal about her little oversight, and she was not at all anxious to test his patience. Donner probably knew where the witness was, in fact he was probably the only person who knew, but if she just happened to ask him and the boy turned up dead the next day that wouldn’t do her any good. This situation needed to be handled very carefully.
Quickly she began searching the desk, looking for any document or message that might lead her to where the witness was being kept. Hamilton had almost given up when she spied a manila folder of neatly organized FAXes on the sidebar beside the machine.
There on the return line, the fax number and the name of the location from which the fax had been sent. Smiling she quickly pulled out her cell phone.
Greene House Hotel,
11:00 p.m.
A black sedan pulled smoothly up to the curb across the street from the hotel. The car’s lone occupant sat huddled over the steering wheel, cupping his hands around a cigarette.
Carl Kingston sighed hating the dry, bland taste of the artificial tobacco, no tar and no nicotine, but no flavor either.
Coughing a bit, he put the window down and tossed the butt out into the street. The faint red ember glowed briefly before it self extinguished. Shaking his head, Carl hitched another sigh thinking of the good old days when a cigarette could at least cripple you if not down right kill you. These damned things couldn’t even start a raging forest fire.
Picking up the small leather bag on the seat he exited the car, looking carefully both ways before crossing the street. Slinging the bag over his shoulder he walked through the door under the metal detector and into the brightly lit lobby.
The Green House was nothing if not elegant. One of the oldest buildings to survive the convergence with a warm, old world wood and metal lobby, and a huge stone fireplace, that burned actual wood, or would have if the clean air laws didn’t forbid open flames.
He paused glancing around discretely, and immediately identified two undercover police officers sitting at the bar to the far end of the room. Quickly Carl walked purposefully to the registration desk smiling at the clerk. He gave her the name he had registered under and collected his key. The room was on the third floor close to the elevator and he had had to do some fast-talking to get it.
Once he had reached the room he opened the door, putting his bag down on the bed and turned on the television. Carl wasn’t too big on TV. But most people who had been traveling usually tuned in, if only catch the local weather.
Stripping off his overcoat he fished through the bag for a small locked box, and carried it over to the table. Inside the box were the disassembled pieces of his handgun, made of high-density plastics and the pulse chamber. It took only a few minutes for Carl’s nimble fingers to reassemble to gun, which he tucked into his trouser pocket before shutting off the TV and going out the door.
Quickly he walked down the hall and took the elevator back to the lobby where he went to the bar across from the business center. The fax that Judge Hamilton had sent him a copy of had a number that he had traced to the second conference room of the business center. Carl was certain that if he sat there long enough one of the two detectives, either MacLeod or Halwell would show up. The trial began tomorrow; there were probably quite a few things they had to do to get the room ready for the boy to testify.
He smiled as if right on cue Jerry Halwell popped out of the elevator and walked into the conference room, closing the door behind him. Carl was on his third beer when the old man finally came out again frowning at the sheet of paper in his hands.
Carl waited until he was half way across the room before he flipped a credit chip onto the table to cover his bill, and then rose silently following. Pausing just long enough for the elevator doors to close he walked to the second elevator which was on the top floor and pushed the door button. All the time he stood patiently waiting for the elevator Carl kept watch on the green numbers flashing above the other car.
There were only four floors to the hotel, and the upper level was split into four large suites with bedrooms and living areas for more long-term guests. Carl was willing to bet that was where the witness was being housed. But he waited watching as the elevator never slowed once until it reached the fourth floor.
Glancing down at the fax folded in his hand, Carl smiled. The telephone number of the suite was hand printed on the fax, but not the suite number itself. He’d have to find out which suite they were in. He stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the fourth floor.
Three of the four rooms had laundry bags hanging on the doors and Carl went to the first door, the bag held a woman’s suit and a child’s clothing. He carefully placed the clothes in the bag and moved on. Similarly the second bag held lacy black under garments, and Carl decided that unless the boy was playing dress up again this was the wrong room, the third bag was filled with clothing for at least three people, a black Henley and jeans, gray suit trousers and white cotton dress shirt with a large pasta sauce stain on it, and linen slacks and an ivory cotton sweater.
Smiling Carl pulled out his cell phone punching in the number for the suite. He could hear the phone ringing inside, and positioned himself just to the side of the door. The phone clicked on and a voice answered, “MacLeod.”
“Detective MacLeod this is the front desk we have another fax for you in the business center, shall I send it up?” he said blandly.
“No, I’ll be right down.”
The red light on the keypad for the alarm system flashed green, and the door opened. Carl took a step forward and jammed the gun into MacLeod’ side pushing him back inside the room.
Halwell jumped to his feet but MacLeod motioned for him to step aside, and Carl could see the boy sitting at the table, a half eaten plate of food in front of him. He also half rose from his chair, but stopped moving as the gun settled firmly against MacLeod’s neck. “Sorry kid, I got nothing against you. This is just business.”
Methos raised his hands, “Let them go. I’ll come with you.”
“Can’t kid, I really wish I could but they already saw me.” Carl raised the gun, and MacLeod burst into action. He jammed his elbow into the other man’s ribs, and Carl hissed in pain. The first shot rang wild, and Halwell dived for his partner and the hit man. Carl managed to snap off another shot. Jerry Halwell staggered from the impact hitting Methos squarely in the chest and they both collapsed in an untidy heap on the floor behind the table.
Methos struggled to roll the heavier man off him, wincing at the thick viscous fluid oozing over his arms and chest. The amount of blood alone, if not the gaping hole in his chest told Methos that the detective was dead. Quickly he shoved Halwell away staggering to his feet, as another gun shot sounded. Carl and MacLeod parted both with stunned looks on their faces and Methos leapt forward, “Mac?”
Raising a bloody hand to the other man’s face MacLeod smiled gently, “Run, Methos. Get out now.”
“No, oh God, Mac. No!” Methos sobbed as Macleod collapsed forward hand pressed to the gunshot wound in his chest. “No, you’re not supposed to die, not now.”
The gun clicked again, and Methos stood whirling around as his hand dropped to his waist. Carl raised the gun a final time, but before he could fire he staggered back, ten inches of serrated knife blade buried to the hilt in his chest.
Stalking forward the twenty-year-old boy transformed into an ancient and deadly creature. Carl gasped, eyes wide in fear, “Who the hell are you?”
“Somebody you really shouldn’t have pissed off. Who told you we were here? It wasn’t Judge Donner. I am willing to lay money on that. We’ve been here for three weeks and nothing. How did you find us?” Stooping Methos slowly pulled the knife out of the chest wound, the gaping hole sucked at the blade making it more difficult that it should have been. Not that Methos cared, the blade probably hurt like hell if the writhing body beneath him was any indication. He smiled, “Now I’m sure that probably hurt, didn’t it? Well, it’s going to hurt a lot more going back in, and in the end you’ll still tell me exactly what I want.”
Leaning down he smiled, and Carl winced more from that cold, lifeless expression than the knife wound, “I’m only going to ask once more. Who told you we were here?”
“Okay, Carroll Hamilton. Kid you’re crazy. So now you can just leave me alone.”
Pulling the knife blade out of the other man’s body Methos shook his head, “I don’t recall ever saying that I’d let you go if you told me what I wanted.”
The edge of the blade flash under Carl’s chin, and a gush of warm wet fluid splattered Methos fingers. He wiped them slowly on the dead man’s shirtfront. He staggered back to MacLeod’s body settling on the floor. “Oh God, Mac. Please I don’t want to live without you. I can’t even find an Immortal to take my head. Don’t leave me here alone again. I can’t bear it.”
Suddenly a deep vibrating buzz rattled Methos’ entire body setting his teeth on edge. He flinched jerking his head up toward the door. He hadn’t felt that sensation in a long time.
A groan issued from the man on the floor, and Methos jumped back eyes wide, as MacLeod sat up. “Ah! God in Heaven, Methos. I’ve got one hell of a headache. I can feel it rattling my brains.”
“Not a headache, Mac. It’s me.” Methos smiled throwing himself into the other man’s arms. “It’s me, it my buzz.”
“Your buzz, you mean your Immortal buzz? I can feel you!”
“Well, I am sitting in your lap.” Methos said snidely.
“No you dim wit, your Immortal buzz I can feel it. So that means I’m Immortal again?”
MacLeod gasped, “I’m Immortal again.”
“My Prize,” Methos stuttered grinning, as MacLeod shot him a look, “I was the last one standing, and I got my Prize. Game over.”
New York Superior Court,
8:00 a.m.
Judge Hamilton banged her gavel on the bench yet again. It was the third that she had had to bring the court to order, “I will not tolerate disorder in this courtroom, ladies and gentlemen. If I have to I will clear this courtroom.” She turned to Lynn Wagstaff of the prosecutor’s office, “Ms. Wagstaff, if you cannot produce your witness I will have no choice but to dismiss this case.”
“I am sorry, Your Honor, but they are running a little late,” she stuttered. Suddenly the courtroom door flew open as MacLeod strode inside, followed by several uniform deputies and Methos dressed in a blue suit and cotton sweater. Lynn Wagstaff smiled, “My first witness is here, Your Honor. I call Adam Dawson to the stand.”
Judge Hamilton gaped then glanced not at the defendant’s table but the row of expensively dressed men and women behind the defendant and his attorney. Jack Hass
turned to Anthony Minnelli pressing his hand against the man’s chest keeping him in his chair.
Suddenly Captain Tom Harris of the major crimes division stepped forward, speaking to the prosecutor, she turned to the bench. “Actually the People request a side bar with Your Honor,” she moved forward along with MacLeod and the Captain. Jack Hass also took his place at the bench.
MacLeod glanced up at the judge, “Carroll, Minnelli’s hit man talked, you need to excuse your self and go with the Captain. Try to preserve your dignity.”
Hass turned, “If the judge is going to be removed then I have to request a continuance. My client cannot go to trial with an unprepared judge on the bench.”
Lynn Wagstaff shook her head, “Judge Donner is here and available. In fact he did all the pre-trial phase so he is very well familiar with the case. It will not damage your client in any way to go forward with this trial.”
Three Weeks Later…
Judge Donner accepted the note from the Jury foreman and read the verdict. Anthony Minnelli was guilty on all counts. Lynn Wagstaff shook hands with the detectives and witness for the state. As they stood beside the table watching the crowd file out of the room, she said quietly, “I’m sorry that this had to disrupt your life, Adam. I know it’s going to be hard adjusting to a new life, but it’s for the best. While Minnelli himself is out of the picture his family is not and you won’t safe here anymore. I understand that you’re leaving the force as well Detective MacLeod.”
“Yeah, I am. In fact I’m driving Adam to the airport today.”
Methos half turned, and then smiled at the woman again. He followed MacLeod to the Bronco. “I didn’t realize that I was going anywhere by air.”
“It’s hard to get to the Mars colony otherwise,” MacLeod said smiling and handing him a ticket. Methos glanced at the white plastic strip in his hand.
“Mars Colony? Mac, I can’t go to Mars. They only accept people with necessary skills. I don’t have any skills that qualify, not yet. If I can finish my Tech Degree then maybe.”
“Well, they need experience law enforcement personnel. Especially since the terra formers and the water pipeline construction crew began having little disagreements with the ice miners at the polar caps. And you can finish your degree on-line. The college you were attending has a program. In fact your tuition is all paid up.”
“Only one problem I’m not a qualified law enforcement officer.”
“I know,” MacLeod, said enjoying being one up on the Old Man. Methos shot him a look, and then accepted the packet that the other man shoved into his hands, “You’ll need these too.”
An id card, bankcard and passport dropped into his lap as Methos shook open the envelope. He picked up the ID card “Adam Pierson-MacLeod. What the hell?”
“Oh, I forgot to mention that the spouses of qualified personnel also get to go.” Macleod said not looking at the other man. Methos cast a sideways glance at him. Shifting through the documents with trembling hands he finally sighed.
“Mac, I don’t know what to say. But I’m not sure...”
“There’s no more Game Methos, even if more Immortals are born here on Earth we’ll be gone. No one will ever have to tell them about the Game or the Gathering. Please I have a second chance to be Immortal, to love you forever. Don’t deny me.”
“Have I ever? I’ll try MacLeod...Duncan.” Methos whispered quietly, and the smile on MacLeod’s face made it all worthwhile. Quickly Macleod scrabbled something out of his pocket.
“Give me your hand,” he said tapping Methos’ elbow and Methos raised his left hand. Taking a deep breath MacLeod slid the gold ring on his finger. And that was when Methos noticed that MacLeod was already wearing his ring. Methos tangled his fingers with the other man’s leaning forward to claim a quick kiss.
“Whether thou goest, so shall I go.”
The End
Author's Note: With apologies to Ray Bradbury and Walt Whitman for stealing this wonderful line for a title.