LIBERTY
Choking. Gasping was a better word for it. Light seeped into his eyes as the heavy lids slowly opened. Dying had never been his favorite thing to do, not since he would never know if his head would stay intact, which was not likely with the company he was keeping.
But once again, Cain found himself in the warehouse. The same table was before him, Ambrosi at the center with immortals on either side. It seemed his army of undying men grew by the minute.
"Why did you take her?" he asked as he stood up.
Ambrosi raised a curious brow. "I told you I’d deal with her myself. She doesn’t concern you. However, this painting, that is what concerns you."
Cain studied the room briefly. Except for the table, the room was empty of any other type of furniture. Only one door gave entry or exit, and Cain was almost certain that this place was Ambrosi’s headquarters. Why else would he keep it’s location secret? Was Amanda here as well?
Ambrosi regained his attention with the clap of his hands. "This painting contains a remarkable likeness of MacLeod, but it is a dead end. It reveals nothing about where he could be."
"Oh, but you see," Cain began, raising a finger as his mind began to churn, "it does. If we had not discovered it, my dear friend Mr. Pierson would not have contacted his friend Joe Dawson. Mr. Dawson paid us a visit tonight and gave us some very useful information." He paused for the dramatic effect.
The crime boss was not amused. "Well, what was the information?"
Cain looked over his shoulder to spy the goons on either side of him. "May I approach?" he asked of his bailiffs.
Weldon, the leader of the rabble, looked to Ambrosi. When he gave approval, the goon ushered Cain to the table.
Cain set his plan into action. "I’m wondering what my place in all this is."
The grayed immortal leaned forward. "I take that to mean you’re curious as to what you’ll get in return for your, ah, so called services."
The boy smiled and nodded. Ambrosi took a moment to ponder the question. Leaning back, he gave his answer. "How about I let you live?"
Confusion crossed the young immortal’s features at the answer he had not expected.
"I never liked you, kid," Ambrosi continued, "and I don’t think you’ll ever fit in with my group. You’re too sloppy and don’t follow directions well. I should have you executed for running like you did."
His voice grew louder with each sentence, and Cain began to back away. "But since you’ve found yourself right in the middle of us once again, I find that you may be somewhat useful. So, you tell me what you know, I let you live. Fair enough?"
Gulping, Cain nodded. This had not gone at all how he planned. Now he had no choice but to spill his guts or lose his head. "This…this guy, Joe Dawson," he stuttered, "must have some pretty good informants."
"Is he immortal?" Ambrosi wanted to know immediately.
"No," Cain replied and waited in case the mobster had more to say. When he was indicated, he continued. "He said he had a lead on MacLeod’s whereabouts."
"And where would that be?"
Cain hesitated momentarily. "Hawaii. He said he’d be somewhere warm." He added the last bit but not revealing his own run in with said immortal.
Ambrosi fell into a fit of laughter. "That son-of-a-bitch is living it up in the sun and sand? I think it’s time he gets paid a little visit." Standing, he waved his men to prepare for a journey.
"What about him?" Weldon questioned of Cain.
Ambrosi looked thoughtfully at the boy before answering. "Kill him."
For several hours he sat on the steps, wracking his brain for a possible explanation. Finally giving up, he rose to join his friend in the warmth of his apartment. Before he could get inside, it hit him, like a chilling breeze. Someone was near.
From down the street, the car he recognized from the night at the museum came tearing toward the apartment building and came to a screeching halt at the curb. Methos took the steps two at a time while unsheathing his sword. The back door opened and out came a body, head still intact he noted. Then the car sped off.
Methos chased it for a few blocks, never catching a good look at the license plate. He quickly returned to the body, who he knew to be Cain. Stabbed in the heart this time, no doubt by the same dagger he had met several nights before. Snatching the body up, he noticed a note attached to the front of the boy’s shirt.
Quickly, he read it and detached the paper. Then Methos hauled the kid up the stairs. After meeting death twice in one night, he hoped the boy would be up to talking. If not, he would find some way to make him talk.
Joe, startled at the kicked open door, rose from his resting place on the sofa. Immediately, he moved so Methos could deposit the body there. "Where did he come from?"
"Delivered, by the same goons who took Amanda," Methos replied," but something is very strange here."
He moved closer to Joe and showed him the note. "This was attached to his shirt."
"’We have the woman. If you want to see her alive again, bring MacLeod,’" Joe read. "Who are they?"
Methos shook his head. "I have a feeling that wonder boy here can tell us that."
With that said, Cain sprang upright, taking in great gulps of air. Relief washed over him when he saw Adam and his friend Joe. "What happened?"
Methos folded the note and stuck it into his pocket. Better to save it for later. It was time he got some answers. "Well, you were shot, kidnapped, and now you’re back here. I was hoping you could tell me what happened."
Cain set a hand on his forehead and closed his eyes. "I don’t remember."
Methos exploded. "Cut the crap! There’s something you’re not telling, something you haven’t told from the beginning. Who were those men, and where have they taken Amanda?" Unexpectantly, he drew his sword and pressed it to Cain’s throat.
His explosion disturbed even Joe. The old man backed into the table and promptly took a seat. The relationship between these two immortals was a mystery, and he suddenly got the feeling that it was not just a mystery to him.
"I swear to you, I had no idea that he’d be here!" Cain explained not entirely lying, but he could not disguise the fear rising in his eyes.
"Who is here?"
The Watcher had never witnessed such harshness from Methos. Mac had told him on several occasions of just how vile the immortal could be. Another surprise the five thousand plus year-old had up his sleeve.
But it was Cain who was receiving the brunt of his anger, and he squirmed like a tadpole. "It’s Ambrosi! Those guys cornered me outside and shot me!"
"What did he want, Cain? Where did they take you? I don’t want you to leave anything out."
"I don’t know, honest. It was in some warehouse, I think. They already had me there when I came back." Pausing, he tried to calm himself. He would have to be careful in the answers he gave.
"He took the painting," Cain continued. "You see, I ran away from him in New York, so he’s not so happy to see me, but he found out that I worked in the museum and thought I could tell him why Duncan MacLeod was in that painting. But I don’t know, and that’s what I told him!"
Methos removed his sword and began his pacing, from the door to the window and back. "Why, I don’t understand, did he let you live? If he’s this all powerful crime boss, what would little insignificant you be to him?"
The boy used the back of his hand to wipe the sweat beading on his brow and gulped. "I don’t know. He told me he was going to let me live because he thought I could be useful, but he didn’t tell me why. I swear, that’s all I know!"
Abruptly stopping, Methos yanked the note from his pocket. "Did Ambrosi happen to mention Amanda? Does he have her?"
To Methos and Joe, the kid appeared to be thinking hard on the matter as if he was trying to remember, but in truth, he was working hard to fabricate his answer. "I don’t remember him saying anything about her. He was mainly concerned about whether to let me live or die."
Unfolding the paper, Methos shoved it into Cain’s face. "Well, I suppose this is what you’re useful for. Delivering notes, nonverbally."
The young immortal read the message and looked back to the man who had originally taken him away from the crime boss. "I didn’t know," he offered honestly.
"He’s wanting to deal," Joe finally spoke up, "but the problem is, we don’t know exactly where MacLeod is. And just how are we suppose to contact this Ambrosi?"
"He has a way of finding you," Cain mumbled.
Methos agreed with that. "How and why they tracked down Amanda, I don’t know, but they did, and there was no way to escape. This crime boss aligns himself with immortals, no mortals work for him."
"That Ambrosi!" Joe suddenly exclaimed. "He’s been running heists for nearly a century, and he’s always worked like that. Mac had a run in with him once. Maybe that’s why he’s hell bent on finding him."
"Run in? What happened?" Methos wondered aloud.
Cain was amazed at what the old man knew. No wonder Adam and MacLeod had befriended him. With his contacts, it would be easy to find or avoid any immortal in the world.
Joe continued. "It was when Mac and Tessa had the antique shop. Ambrosi ended up behind bars. Maybe he’s got some kind of grudge on Mac for putting him in prison. He’s certainly had worse grudges on him in his lifetime."
"But why would he want Amanda?" Cain asked, attempting to sound ignorant.
"That’s it!" Methos suddenly exclaimed. "She’s bait, of course, since she’s a good friend to MacLeod, but she was suppose to pull a job here in Philly. The Federal Reserve, but she never got the plans. Maybe it was an Ambrosi job and she somehow intercepted it. That would explain it."
"Maybe," Joe agreed, "but I don’t see how they’d know she was a friend of MacLeod’s."
"The painting," Cain explained. "She was at the museum when it was discovered. He’s apparently got mortal spies, following me."
Methos raised an eyebrow. He made his way into the kitchen to pull a beer out of the refrigerator. He paused beside Joe to whisper, "Did you have someone on Amanda? Maybe they followed the others."
After Methos passed by him, Joe began to gather his coat. "I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night. I’m going back to my hotel. Adam, I’ll call you in the morning. Let me know what you plan to do."
Methos nodded. "I think Cain needs to get some rest. He’s had an eventful night."
Sheepishly, Cain grinned. "You’re right. I could use some sleep."
Offering his room to the boy, he waited until he was certain that Cain was lost in deep sleep before he vacated the premises. Hopefully, he would be too far under the spell of dreams to realize that the buzzing presence was gone. Joe waited for him outside, a taxi hailed to take them across town.
"My laptop is at the hotel," Joe explained, so they set off.
Methos remained silent for the ride. Plenty had happened in the past week to make a man go insane. He counted himself lucky to have lived enough centuries to tame his mind to not fall into such quackery. This was beginning to turn into another O’Rourke incident, and that had been what enticed MacLeod to disappear in the first place.
Joe had not chosen so luxurious a hotel as Amanda had. Instead, it was one of those cheap jobs, as he liked to call them. Nonetheless, it was adequate enough for their purposes. Up the short flight of stairs, and they were to his door. The Watcher had taken the time to set up his computer equipment before making an appearance at the immortal’s apartment.
"Just let me check my e-mail."
Methos chuckled. "What, the regular phone call’s out of style now?"
"Believe it or not, I left my cell phone back at the bar," Joe shot back at the snide remark. "You gotta work it how you can."
Methos threw up his hands in submission. "For sure."
"Walters is on Amanda. He hasn’t checked in for a couple of days so maybe he did follow her. I just hope he didn’t get caught." Joe pecked a few more keys on the laptop.
During his time in the Watcher organization, Methos had familiarized himself with the latest technology. It was so much easier to look something up on the Internet than it was to go traipsing around a library sifting through the archives. He left the work up to Dawson since he had been out of the group for some time. Their latest database would most likely be beefed up more so than the last time he had glimpsed it.
"Thursday was the last time Walters checked in. Said that she had gone into the hotel so he was going to take it easy," Joe deciphered the e-mail.
"That’s when it happened, Thursday," Methos informed his friend. "And nothing has come in since then? Would there be anyone else, maybe someone on Ambrosi?"
Joe searched through his files. "I hate to say it, but we haven’t had anyone on Ambrosi for at least a year. He was in New York the last we knew, but it seemed he just disappeared. He’s got so many immortals with him, my guys kept running into each other and dead ends."
"So basically, you’re saying that we still have no idea where Amanda could be," Methos sighed. "Cain said it was a warehouse. You got anymore of your guys here in the city?"
"That’ll take some time to figure out, but I’ll get right on it, see if any have noticed anything suspicious," Joe planned. "I’ll just tell them that I’ve lost contact with one of them and think that something’s up. That way, no one will get their own ideas. I’ll call when I find something."
"By the way," Methos added just before he turned to leave, "what is Amanda going by these days?"
Joe thought that was a strange question. "Hold on." He sifted through previous e-mails from Walters and found what he was looking for. "She checked into the hotel as Amanda Raven. Why?"
"Just curious," Methos mumbled and left Joe to do his research.
"Mr. Pierson, this is Cindy with your travel company. I just wanted to let you know that your vehicle has arrived in Philadelphia, and you may pick it up at our branch here downtown. Do you know where that is?"
"Ah, yes," he replied into the phone. "I’ll be by later this morning to pick it up."
Just in time, he thought to himself. It would be one hell of a drive to Texas, but perhaps he could send the Range Rover by air to meet him there. He would check into that because once he arrived in Texas, he wanted his own transportation to hunt MacLeod with.
Before hanging up with his travel company, he questioned how soon arrangements could be made to do just that and was pleased to find out that they would be taken care of that day. He could get a flight to Houston that left out of the city at seven that evening. Methos booked the flight.
Now, what to do with Cain? The boy’s story sounded fishier every time he rolled it through his head. His story about running had stayed the same, but why would Ambrosi come after him? If he did have all these immortals as both Cain and Joe indicated, then why would one immature immortal matter? Unless he had taken something. This would make more sense. But what could he have done? Methos wondered.
Glancing back to the bedroom, the young immortal appeared to be still asleep, and Methos hoped that his phone conversation had not been overheard. Then the idea hit him and he knew how to solve that. Moving toward the bedroom, he caught sight of Cain stirring. He turned the phone on.
"Yes, yes, I understand, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that the collection is harmed no more." He paused as if listening to someone on the other line. "Yes, the museum is closed for the time being, but I do believe it’ll open back up tomorrow morning, yes Monday."
Cain was now sitting up in the bed looking at Methos. Methos smiled slightly and waved at him as if saying to go back to sleep. The young immortal decided to listen instead. Just what I want, Methos mused.
"In Paris? Well, yes he’s here to take care of it, but why so sudden? Oh I see. Of course, I can be there by Tuesday morning. I’ll check into leaving this evening. Okay, well, yes sir, I hope so too. Good, very well, goodbye."
"You’re going to Paris?" Cain asked, astounded at the news.
"It seems the Grand Palais wants to question me in the missing painting ordeal and to tend to some other business. I believe that my partner is going to reopen the museum tomorrow, so you can stay here and work. Plus, I need someone to keep the apartment for me. What do you say?"
Cain was hesitant, the reaction Methos hoped would give something away. "Yeah sure, but what if Ambrosi comes again?"
"I’ll check into getting someone to watch you. You won’t know that they’re around, but if something happens, you’ll have some help." Not entirely the truth, but good enough.
"Well, what about MacLeod? Aren’t you going to try to find him? What about that note?" Cain was becoming frantic.
"Calm down," Methos cooed. "We have no idea where he could be, so I haven’t the faintest idea where to start looking. Besides, he doesn’t want to be found so there’s really nothing I can do. Amanda has survived worse situations than this. I can only hope that she’ll pull through this time." There, let the boy believe him to be a coward.
Words escaped the boy now, and Methos was grateful that the moment had come to pass. Let him brood over whatever it was that he had thought was going to happen. Just how clever he thought he was, Methos did not know, but slowly, he unraveled.
"I’ve got to call John and work out the details with the museum," he announced. "I’ll tell him you’ll be there to work, then I’ve got to make arrangements to get to Paris."
Cain nodded. "I think you should get a TV," he suddenly announced. "What else am I suppose to do while you’re gone?"
Methos laughed. "All right then, a TV it is!"
Later in the day, Cain happily veged on the sofa watching the newly acquired television while Methos made the rounds before setting foot onboard the plane to Texas. Joe’s was the first stop. He explained his deception on Cain’s part so that the Watcher could play along.
"I found several of my guys here in the city, and they’re scouring the city for warehouses that might seem to house something out of the ordinary. They’re led to believe that Walters is missing, which is true," Joe explained.
"Gotta cover your bases though," Methos reassured him. "Anything else on Mac, since I’m heading that way?"
Joe moved away from the laptop. "The report I received placed him leaving Houston’s Intercontinental Airport. From there, he headed northeast. That could be anywhere, and Texas is one hell of a big place. But my guess would be that he’s somewhere secluded, away from the Game for a while."
"Hmm…that could be anywhere in Texas then. Like you said, it’s big. The Range Rover’s headed to Houston now. I leave at seven."
Joe smiled, smacked his friend on the shoulder. "Good luck. Be sure to call in, you’ve got the number here."
Methos nodded. "Keep an eye on Cain. I’ve got a bad feeling about him."
"You never really told me how you found him." Joe had been curious.
"Let’s just say that he found me," Methos replied and left it at that. He said his good-byes.
"Oh," Joe called after him, "be careful and don’t run out of gas."
After Joe had gone back up, Methos slumped on the steps outside the apartment building, lost in a myriad of thoughts. Had MacLeod gotten himself into some mess? Could this be part of the reason he left? But he had said that never again would his friends suffer because of him. It was not like MacLeod to be mixed up in something like this. "Whatever the hell this is," he muttered.
The next morning, Methos was awakened by the telephone. Cain, still sacked out in his bedroom, did not stir. The older immortal fumbled his way to where he had last left the cordless phone. "Hello?"
