by Carol Roi
After watching the large American Airlines plane lift off from the tarmac, Jan and I head back out to the short-term parking lot and are soon heading back into the city. It takes us a little longer than I anticipated to find Prospect Avenue, and then after a false start, (we headed in the wrong direction) we finally locate the address Diandra gave us. There are several cars parked in the street and a few in the small parking area beside the building. Jan blithely ignores the posted sign reading "residents only" and pulls into a slot next to Diandra's Jeep Wagoneer.
"I'll move the car later," he explains as he gets out of the driver's seat and, once again, manages to tuck his sword away without drawing undue attention to his actions.
"Better. You're getting good at the tuck and hide, Jan," I compliment him as I join him at the back of the Lexus. I sense the presence of an Immortal in the area and sigh in relief as I realize the exercise Diandra led me in last night allows me to identify her from her buzz. I reach out and touch my student on the shoulder. "Diandra."
He nods, accepting my one word explanation for the buzz he's obviously reacting to. We turn at the same time and see my old friend exiting a door on the side of 852 Prospect.
"Thought I saw you pull in." Diandra comes over to us, greeting me with a hug and Jan with a firm handshake. "I'm glad you showed up. I was starting to get worried. Let's get your stuff inside and then, if you're up to it, we'll see just how much you already know, LaFollet." She leads the way to the apartment on the third floor. We carry our bags up the stairs, after she quietly tells us the elevator is down. From her tone, I guess that is a common occurrence here.
I step into her apartment and come to an abrupt halt, causing Jan-Michel to step on my heels. The place is large! A pad like this, back in New York City, hell even back in Rochester, would run several thousand dollars a month! "Goddess, Dee! When you said you had room enough to train in, you weren't kidding!"
"Of course not, Lia. Come on, let's get your gear stowed away. Have you two eaten lunch yet? No? Okay, then I'll whip something up and once your stomachs settle, I'll show you where everything is and you can get started training your student."
Blair sat in Jim's chair in the bullpen, swiveling in a steady rhythm back and forth. He chewed slowly on a veggie sub he'd had H bring him back when he went to lunch, Jim and Simon not having returned. He'd tried calling Joe to let him know about the email, but hadn't had much luck in locating the senior Watcher. And since he couldn't stand to just wait for Joe to get back to him, he was doing what he did best, thinking.
Right now, Blair was working on the theory Bradley Ventriss was an Immortal. The way he looked at it, Brad hadn't known what he was at the time of the Chung case. If he had, then he wouldn't have bothered trying to escape Jim when they had pursued the boat in the police helicopter. All Brad needed to do was force Jim to shoot him, or simply jump off the boat and let himself drown. Once everyone thought he was dead, then he could make his escape. So, that meant his death in prison was possibly his first one. Blair shook his head. This was crazy. Brad was dead. He'd seen the autopsy results.
He could just ask Eolia if the man who'd shot at her was Immortal. That would solve everything. If, and this was a big if, Blair could trust her answer. Setting his sandwich down, he took a sip of water and rubbed his temple. Just thinking about Lee Eolia gave him a headache. He was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, but all his instincts were telling him she was not to be trusted. His feelings on the matter might have something to do with the fact he could tell Dee didn't completely trust her either. Dee cared about her, yes, but he got the idea that it was out of loyalty to what they had been to each other when they'd first met, a loyalty he wasn't sure Lee shared. In fact, if he went by what had gone down at the church, and the story Dee had told him of their last meeting before that, then Lee didn't trust Diandra. And if Eolia believed the other Immortal was working against her…He'd told himself he wasn't going to go there. Diandra was a big girl; she knew how to watch her head. Eolia would not be getting the drop on her, of that he was certain.
Now he had a literal headache. Opening a desk drawer, Blair pulled out Jim's bottle of painkillers and shook a couple into his palm. Downing the pills, he sat back in the chair and finished his sandwich.
There was no telling when Jim would be back, and he'd gone through all the info on the break-in and the shooting. There was no solid evidence to connect the two, unless he dropped Brad Ventriss into the mix. With a sigh, he picked up his notepad and went over his theory. Assuming Brad was the thief at QuestScape was easy enough. Brad had stolen from his father's company before, and knew how to bypass the security systems and where the most sensitive data would be kept. As for the shooting, Brad's modus operandi had been to go after the people who had interfered with his plans, such as Dennis Chung and himself. Lee perhaps could identify him from QuestScape, so it was logical he would target her. The fact she was immortal would only make it that much sweeter, if Brad himself was immortal.
Damn it! Someone had to know for sure whether Brad was immortal or not. Blair's cell phone chose that moment to ring, and he jumped in his seat before scrambling to answer it. "Hello."
"Blair, this is Joe Dawson. I got your email. The photo you sent me matches a description of an Immortal who hooked up with one Reggie Kinney, stayed with him for a couple months, then took his head."
Leaning back in his chair, Blair stared up at the ceiling, feeling his heart beginning to pound. "What can you tell me about Kinney?"
"I've forwarded his file to your email. All the info I think you'll need is in there. I also included the phone number of his Watcher, Mark Haverill. He wasn't able to get a photo of this other Immortal, but he might recognize him from the one you sent me. Oh, about Haverill, he works for the Cascade PD. He used to be a guard at the city/county detention center. I think he's asked for a transfer since his subject died."
"Thanks, Joe!" Blair clicked the phone off and pumped his arm in a silent "YES!" A quick call to personnel got him the info that Haverill had been transferred to Robbery. Gathering his notes and laptop up and shoving them into his backpack, Blair grabbed the files that needed to go back to records, and headed downstairs, hoping to find Haverill on duty.
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After a quick lunch of sandwiches, Dee gave Eolia and Jan-Michel a quick tour of the studio. From the storage room under the master bedroom she produced two padded jackets and two face masks, tossing one of each to the two Immortals. "Suit up," she told them.
Jan-Michel quickly began to don his protective garb, but Lee balked. "Is this really necessary?"
"My studio, my rules. And unless you want Ellison to figure out you're immortal, I suggest you wear them. His apartment is across the hall, and he's been known to just walk in if he knows I'm home."
Lee made a face but suited up, then took a couple minutes to choose a practice blade from the ones available, while Dee selected one for Jan-Michel that was similar to Azir's blade. Taking a seat on the bench, she waved a hand at the large room. "Have at it."
After about five minutes, she could hold her tongue no longer and began coaching. "LaFollet, keep the end of your blade up. Your opponent is not the ground." Getting to her feet, she paced around the sparring pair. "Use your longer reach to your advantage. You can keep her at arm's length while still doing damage." Dee continued to call out instructions to Jan-Michel, ignoring Lee's increasing anger.
"Damn it, Dee, would you stop it? He's my student, not yours!"
Dee couldn't help herself. Lee's sword work was lazy, sloppy, and definitely not a good example. "With you as a teacher, he's sure to get killed." Okay, so that was a low blow, but it would be interesting to see how the other woman reacted.
"Fuck you, Dee! I'll train him as I see fit!"
Ah, there's that famous Eolia temper she remembered. "Train him to lose his head!" she shot back. Crossing to the weapons display on the wall, Diandra
took down a Spanish colichemarde rapier. She thrust and parried with it for a moment, familiarizing herself with its weight.
Lee continued to spar with Jan-Michel, her back to Diandra. "I haven't lost a student in over a hundred years. Can you say the same?"
Dee approached them, her sword held low. "I've only had two immortal students in the last hundred years. Far as I know, they're both still alive. Unless you or Azir took Stasha's head in Bonn." She stepped in between the two immortals, catching Lee's blade on her own as she smashed her elbow into LaFollet's face, sending him sprawling.
Ignoring the fact her student was now lying on the floor stunned, Lee turned her attention to Diandra, continuing their argument. "You mean, 'Heidi'? Damn you! We lost her trail because of you!"
"Me! You were the one who had to take time out of your 'spying' to challenge me! I was minding my own business!" Dee dodged to the side, making Lee chase her across the wide space.
"You were consorting with the enemy!"
"Consorting! Some spy you were! You didn't even know she was immortal until I told you!"
Lee drove Diandra back with a swift series of blows, the noise of steel meeting steel almost deafening. "As far as I knew, you WERE the enemy! I had to take you out!" Once again Dee moved out of range, and the other woman followed angrily. "I had no way of knowing she was Immortal! I never got close enough to feel her! Azir held me back too often!"
Dee felt the harsh words falling from her tongue, goading Eolia. "Maybe that's why you're so lousy with a sword! When was the last time you took a head?"
"A little over a year ago in New York. But I practiced every damn day with Azir I could!" Lee's voice took on a whining edge and her swordplay grew a little more desperate, as if she was trying to convince herself of her skill.
"I've taken three heads in the past 3 months. And I think Azir coddled you. I'll bet I could take your head without breaking a sweat." Diandra slid her sword along Lee's and took a step forward, meeting the smaller woman's gaze confidently, a dangerous smile on her lips.
Growling deep in her throat, Lee raised her sword, stepping back a pace. "Try me, Pythia."
"I think I will." Diandra shifted into high gear, her blade whipping back and forth in tight, hard strokes, each one taking a good deal of effort on Lee's part to parry.
After about ten minutes of the sustained assault, Eolia began to back up, trying to evade Dee's blade, but the Champion was determined not to give her any room to breath, to regroup. Sensing her prey tiring, Dee thrust straight at her chest, forcing Lee to parry her blade to the side. Taking advantage of the opening, Dee kicked her hard in the stomach, sending her to the floor. "Lia, Lia, is your memory that bad? You fell for the same move in Bonn."
Lee rolled quickly to her feet, but didn't get her sword up in time, and a second kick sent it flying from her grasp. Thrusting her sword forward again, Dee was surprised to see Lee back flip away from her, heading for the weapons on the wall. There's hope for you yet, Lia.
Following her opponent across the room, Dee brought her rapier up for the final blow, just as Lee grabbed a quarterstaff from its place on the wall. She started to turn back toward Diandra, but her foot slipped out from under her on the polished floor and she dropped heavily to both knees. The staff still came up in a defensive move that would have been too little too late, if Dee had been able to complete her stroke. Instead, someone slammed into Diandra hard from behind, sending her sprawling to the floor, the rapier skittering out of her grasp.
Her arm was wrenched up between her shoulder blades, and a knee was planted firmly in the small of her back. Turning her head as far to the side as it would go, she caught a glimpse of someone looming over her. "Get the fuck off of me!" she snarled.
Two men emerged from the elevator and stepped out onto the seventh floor of Cascade PD's Central headquarters.
"Next time I get called to talk to that SOB, do me a favor and just shoot me?"
Captain Simon Banks chuckled as he patted his grousing detective on the shoulder. "And put up with Sandburg afterwards? No thanks, Jim." He understood the man's ire. PA Butler had kept them both in his office for hours, going over the entire case file, every single charge against Gleason. The man was a good attorney, but sometimes his attention to every little detail was annoying as hell.
"Damn. Forgot something." Jim executed a perfect 'about-face' and headed back towards the elevators.
"What? I could've sworn we covered everything with Butler," Simon called out to the retreating back.
Punching the call button a little harder than needed, Jim Ellison looked back at his puzzled Captain. "I need to run down to Forensics. I'll be back." The doors opened up and he stepped into the lift.
"You'd better be." The doors closed and Simon found himself alone in the hall outside of Major Crimes. "After all, you still have a bunch of reports to file before going home tonight, Ellison." Shaking his head, the tall man entered the area of his command and was satisfied to see all of his people hard at work, including a certain observer, who was nearly buried behind files that were stacked on Ellison's desk. A few of the officers in the room called out quiet greetings to him as he made his way towards his office. He answered with his patented 'captain's grumpy grunt,' which turned into a groan as he saw the nearly foot deep stack of files in his 'in' box. Slamming the door behind him, Simon shut out the rest of the world to concentrate on the job he had gotten behind on, all because some sniveling, liberal, politico of a PA wanted to make sure that every damn 'I' was dotted and every 'T' crossed on every single piece of paper in the Gleason files.
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Jim Ellison entered the PD's Forensic Lab to be confronted by a rather ticked off Serena Chang.
"Wondered if you'd have the guts to show your face down here, Ellison."
"Nice to see you too, Serena."
"What in the hell did you think my weekend staff was going to find outside of QuestScape that didn't turn up in our original sweep? And why the hell didn't you or Connor stick around to brief them?"
Jim found himself backed into a corner, literally, by the head of the Forensic Team. "Did they find anything?"
Serena's eyes narrowed as she glared up at the man she'd managed to harangue, then she calmly reached over and snapped up a file from the top of the stack of paperwork she'd already signed off on. "Read for yourself." She slapped the thin file into his waiting hand, then barged past him to call out to one of her techs. "Amura! You're in charge. I'm finally going to lunch. I want the final report on the David case on my desk when I get back!"
Reading over the report in the depressingly thin file, Jim nearly jumped out of his skin when Serena slammed the door to the lab on her way out. "Damn. Nothing."
Keiko Amura approached Detective Ellison and overheard his comments. "Well, not exactly nothing, Detective… Just nothing that relates to your case." Jim pinned her with a glare. Raising a questioning eyebrow, she asked, "Unless you really wanted to know how many pinecones my team found?"
Jim smiled, appreciating the woman's attempt to lighten the mood. "No. Thanks, Amura. I really just came down here to see if you all were done with the property that was taken at the David murder scene?"
"Ah, yes. Peter told me you'd asked about that." She motioned for the detective to follow her, leading him deeper into the lab and back towards the lockers. "We cleared it last night, after we got in from QuestScape. The only things we found were trace evidence, possibly from the clerks at the stores, and the bloodstains we found were consistent with the scene. The one shirt is a total loss, but the rest was remarkably clean." Finding the locker she was hunting for, Amura used her passkey to open the lock and she started handing out the parcels.
"Nothing of interest then?" Jim started combining the bags, to make the load easier to handle, and stopped when he found a long box. Carefully opening the lid, he found himself looking at an ornate dagger, some twelve inches in total lengt
h. He admired the workmanship.
"Just that. Beautiful, isn't it? And quite sharp." Amura reached past his hands and gently picked up the blade. "This is new work, but it reminds me of the tanto my grandfather brought back from Japan. The evidence report said the owner is a woman?" She handed the knife back.
Holding the tanto by the leather bound grip, Jim nodded. "Yeah. I didn't have a chance to ask her at the scene, but maybe Lee is a collector. This looks like a collector's piece." He found himself testing the balance of the knife, finding it perfectly adjusted and enjoying the feel of holding a 'live' blade.
"Maybe. But most collectors' knives are not sharpened to such a fine degree. Tested the blade, it's sharpened to within a micron -- sharp enough to cut through bone." She watched as Ellison placed the blade back in its padded box, and he guessed she had enjoyed holding the beautiful weapon as much as he had.
"You've got a point, Amura." Placing the box in one of the four bags now stacked at his feet, Jim stood up. "This everything?"
