Immortal Cascade 05 Immortal Endgame

by Carol Roi

  The membership in the exclusive men's club had been a gift from Azir two years ago for his services. It was a lifetime membership, which granted him immediate access to any Jockey's club, anywhere in the world, no questions asked. Entering the posh, yet stately club, Jan signed the member's book and, after asking the location of the bar, was escorted to the doors of the watering hole.

  Spying Ventriss sitting at the bar, Jan walked over to him and sat down next to the man, who was already halfway through what appeared to be a whiskey sour. The bartender came over to take his drink order and he gave his usual request. "Glenlivet. Neat."

  Norman Ventriss tensed as he heard the voice of the man who had sat next to him. He carefully swiveled the barstool around to look at him. "Christ. Your boss having you tail me, LaFollet? It is LaFollet, isn't it?"

  Putting his best 'mission' face on, Jan looked over at the man and smiled. "Mr. Ventriss, how nice to see you again, sir." The bartender placed his drink order in front of him and the Watcher took a sip of the potent liquor. "And why would you think Ms. Eolia would have me follow you? She gave me the night off, since she had a little date with a Detective, and I just thought I'd drop in here to see if this Jockey's Club matched up with the others I've visited."

  "Ellison. She's out with Ellison. Son of a bitch." Ventriss slammed back the last of his drink and signaled to the man behind the bar that he wanted another. "Damn bitch had the audacity to threaten me! She doesn't know who she's messing with."

  "Lee threatened you, Ventriss? That's not her style -- unless you pissed her off?" Jan was curious, wanting to know what went down inside the Dragon Pearl. He hoped he could get the man to spill the beans.

  "Pissed her off? I only called it like I saw it, LaFollet."

  "Oh?"

  The older man took a healthy swallow of his fresh drink then returned his attention to the man sitting next to him. "Your boss is a whore, you know that, LaFollet? A thieving, conniving slut who will probably get away with stealing from my company because she's fucking the lead detective."

  Jan-Michel had to fight hard to hold his temper. "I've heard Ms. Eolia referred to as a lot of things, but never a thief and certainly not a whore, Mr. Ventriss."

  Norman leaned in closer to the man. "She fucking you too?"

  "No." The answer growled out of his throat.

  "Shame. I bet she's good in the sack, nice tight ass like that."

  He couldn't take it anymore. Reaching out, as if to hold the man steady as he started to slip out of the chair, Jan-Michel clamped down, hard, on the man's shoulder. His voice was deadly in its quiet tone. "I wouldn't know. And I'd be careful who you're calling a thief, Ventriss. After all, the DVD still hasn't turned up and I think, once it does, you can kiss your contracts with the Defense Department good-bye."

  "Fuck. That's what she said too."

  Before he could dig further into the inebriated man's mind another gentleman approached them. The man was dressed in a dark silk suit, his hair nicely silvered and his mustache neatly trimmed. "Norm? Everything okay here?"

  "Goddamn, not another fucking Ellison! Get out of my way, William." Ventriss rudely brushed past the other man, yelling at the top of his voice. "Carl! Carl! Get the damn car, we're leaving!"

  The man Ventriss had called William watched as Ventriss moved, unsteadily, towards the door, then sighed as he turned to greet the man that had been seated next to Ventriss. "I'm usually pretty good with faces, and I don't think I've ever seen you around here. I'm William Ellison."

  Shaking the man's hand in greeting, Jan said, "Jan-Michel LaFollet, sir. Nice to meet you."

  Taking the seat Ventriss had abandoned, William called out to the bartender. "Tony? Get me another scotch, and refresh Mr. LaFollet's while you're at it."

  "Yes, sir. Pinch as usual?"

  "What else?" Turning to face LaFollet, he asked, "So, LaFollet, where are you from?"

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The conversation with William Ellison, father of James AKA Jim Ellison, proved to be rather interesting. LaFollet found out the man had kept track of his son's career, even if he didn't like it much, and was rather proud of the idea his son had been named "Policeman Of The Year" several years running. He'd also discovered that Ellison, the son, had been an Army Ranger. The friendly rivalry between the military elite -- US Navy SEALS, Army Rangers, USAF Parajumpers, and Marine Force Recon was intense -- but only because the men in those units knew they were the best. Jan-Michel allowed himself to relax, secure in the knowledge Lee was safe from harm while with Jim Ellison.

  After sharing two drinks with LaFollet, the older man had excused himself, stating that he needed to get home before the roads got really bad, but Jan-Michel wasn't ready to leave. Not yet. He had too much to think about, and every time his thoughts led him back to the developing 'relationship' between Eolia and Ellison, he ordered another glass of Glenlivet.

  Tony, the Jockey Club's 'mixologist,' cut him off after the tenth glass. "Mr. LaFollet, I think you've had more than enough tonight. Do I need to call a cab for you, sir?"

  "No." Jan-Michel carefully set his empty glass back on the bar. "Tell me, Tony, does this Club have rooms available for members who get a little too tanked? The one in New York does."

  "Of course, sir. You just need to talk to the manager."

  "'kay, I'll do that." He rose, unsteadily, to his feet. "After I visit the head." Leaving the bar area, he slowly made his way to the men's room, took care of business, then left the Club. He knew that getting behind the wheel of the Lexus was stupid, but he couldn't just leave it in the parking lot over night. He and Lee might need it later.

  The streets were starting to pack over with snow, turning into ice in places, and were lightly traveled. Not too many people were out and about in this weather. "Pansies. We get worse than this back home in New York." Even so, Jan-Michel found himself being rerouted around a rather nasty accident, and he was thankful the cops working the scene didn't stop anyone -- just waved them around the pile up and on their way.

  It was a few minutes before midnight when he finally pulled into a parking spot outside of his, and Lee's, temporary home. The buzz that greeted his arrival did nothing, this time, to clear the alcohol induced haze in his mind as he made his way up the stairs to the third floor. His thoughts kept returning to the hateful words that Norman Ventriss had spoken. "Lee's not a whore, she's not a thief either. I would know, right? After all, I love her. Oh, gods!" He stopped on the last landing and turned his gaze upwards, "Azir, forgive me my friend, but it's true. I've loved your wife, your widow, for a long time. But I never would act on that love, I couldn't. Not while you were still around."

  A peaceful feeling enveloped him, making Jan-Michel think that, maybe, Azir heard his words and forgave him. Sighing, he slowly trudged up the last few steps and, using a key Diandra had given him earlier, let himself into the Immortal Amazon's loft.

  Dee rolled over on her back and stared up through the skylight at the still falling snow. It was well after midnight, and now she couldn't sleep. She listened to the deep, even breathing of the man beside her. From the sound of it, Blair would be out the rest of the night. She ran a hand lightly down his back, his warm presence next to her giving Dee a sense of home, of belonging. It was a feeling she hadn't felt in years, millennia perhaps. The only other person in her life to touch her this deeply had been Lydia. Wherever Lydia had been, had been home, whether it had been the Queen's palace or a battlefield. She had that now with Blair and, it occurred to her, the beginnings of that kind of connection with Megan. How had she ever gotten so lucky? Moving closer to her lover, she leaned her head against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar mixture of scents that signified "Blair" to her. Contentment filled her. This must be what heaven feels like.

  Closing her eyes again, she tried to go back to sleep, but the couple hours she'd gotten earlier seemed to have been enough. And now she was thirsty. Sighing, Diandra
crawled out of bed, tucking the covers snugly around Blair so he wouldn't get cold while she was gone.

  Walking downstairs to the kitchen, she opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap, she'd just taken a sip when she felt the electric tingle down her spine that heralded an approaching Immortal. She heard unsteady footsteps coming up the stairs. They paused outside her door, and she could pick up the sounds of someone trying to fit a key in the lock. Even before the door opened, she could smell the alcohol fumes rolling off of Jan-Michel.

  Dee shook her head. Drunk for the third night in a row. It was amazing he still had his head. Someone ought to teach him a lesson. And I guess it's going to be me. The door finally opened after much noisy fumbling, and LaFollet staggered in, not even sparing a glance in her direction. In fact, she could swear he didn't know she was there. Setting her water bottle on the counter, Dee crossed to her duster, which hung on a peg beside the door. Her hand went unerringly to the hilt of her katana, and she drew the weapon, her eyes never leaving the inebriated Immortal as he wove across the studio, struggling out of his overcoat, dumping it in a heap on the sofa.

  Coming up behind him on silent feet, Dee debated simply running him through. As drunk as he was, he would probably think he just passed out and not realize he'd died. Instead, she took two running paces toward him, planting a flying kick between his shoulder blades.

  Jan-Michel went to the floor, rolling to face her quicker than she expected, his gun in one hand and his sword in the other. A snap kick sent the automatic skidding to the far corners of the darkened room. He brought the blade up in a defensive posture, clearly uncertain of where the attack was coming from. She circled around him, letting the gray light from the French doors leading to the balcony back light her for a moment. He lunged at her silhouette. Dee stepped to the side and kneed him in the stomach, then moved back, letting him chase her. She didn't even bother parrying his sword; his muscle coordination was so bad he could barely hold it steady. Toying with him as a cat plays with a mouse, she let him draw close, then struck with a kick or a punch, only to skip out of the way again.

  They danced together in silence for several minutes, then Dee picked up the first scent of genuine fear from him. Fear is good. And you're going to be very afraid… For the first time since she'd engaged him in battle, Diandra brought her sword into play, slashing a shallow cut across his bicep. Jan-Michel grunted, and raised his sword again. She whirled around him, her blade flashing in the dim light as she carved her marks into him. Never a mortal wound, but enough to let him know she was in complete control, that he was at her mercy.

  "Please…" he finally begged. "Why are you doing this? Please…stop…"

  The Amazon brought her blade across the back of his thigh, the steel biting deep this time, hamstringing him. Jan-Michel tumbled to his knees, losing his weapon in the process. He gazed up at her, the realization of his helplessness visible in his eyes. "Remember this night, Jan-Michel," she intoned softly, then ran her katana through his heart.

  Pulling her weapon from his now dead body, Diandra crossed to the seat underneath her weapons wall. Opening a box under the bench, she took out a silk cloth. Seating herself cross-legged on the bench, she proceeded to clean the blood from her blade as she waited for him to return. Almost fifteen minutes later he did, with a convulsive shudder and a gasp of air. She watched him from her seat as he looked around the studio. His normal eyesight couldn't find her in the shadows, and after a frantic search for his sword and his gun, LaFollet retreated down the hallway to his room. Dee smiled as she heard him engage the lock on his door.

  Hanging her sword in its accustomed place on the wall, she padded up the spiral staircase to catch Blair crawling back into bed, and she knew he had witnessed the fight. "Lobo?"

  Blair shook his head, then held out his hand to her. She sat down on the edge of the bed, and he pulled her into a hug. "That was cruel, angel," he whispered in her ear. "Cruel and sadistic. But it may just save his life someday."

  She nodded against his shoulder, but kept quiet for a while. Finally, she said, "Tomorrow I'll have a talk with Eolia. I don't think she's going to do him any good as a Teacher."

  He clasped the back of her neck with his hand for a moment, squeezing gently. "You may be right." Scooting up toward the head of the bed, he pushed the covers down. "Come on, you're going to need to be well rested to tackle that conversation."

  Smiling, Dee crawled up next to Blair, and wrapped herself around him.

  Part 19

  Waking long before the rest of the people in the apartment, I dress and stealthily make my way into the living area, carrying my shoes and heavy winter coat. Spying LaFollet's coat on the back of the sofa, I dig through the pockets and find the keys to the Lexus. I walk all the way to the first floor in my socks, sitting down on the last few steps to put my hiking boots on. Checking to make sure that I have the tools I need in my pockets and my waist purse, I leave.

  The SUV handles the snow covered roads easily, and my years of driving in such conditions serves me well, even though the city's road crews are working hard to clear the roads. I'm taking a huge chance this morning, I know that, but I cannot allow Ventriss to think I wasn't serious. The man must have forgotten he gave me his home address. After all, if the security check had gone as planned I was to have turned over the dummy prop to him.

  One of the things that was drilled into my head, over and over again in my long life, was 'know the area - study the lay of the land - make it yours.' Memorizing maps produced in these modern times is far easier than it was two-three hundred years ago. Back then, I would've had to have walked the entire city to know it.

  This part of Cascade is obviously the place where the wealthy and the influential gather to show the world who they are. Parking in the man's driveway, I get out and approach the huge manor house. Spotting the home alarm system, I pull out my tools and disarm the damn thing, then pick the lock and let myself into the house. I stop on the threshold, straining my ears to check for sounds of movement. Nothing. Apparently no one is awake yet. I move off to my left, looking for the man's home office or library. If he was responsible for the disappearance of the DVD from his development lab, he might have it hidden here. I find the library, which also doubles for the man's office, and start my search.

  Nothing! Damn him! Maybe he didn't steal the damn disc. What's this? I reach out and pick up a framed photo of Mr. Norman Ventriss and a younger man, and nearly drop it as I recognize him. Ventriss knows the Immortal thief who has been dogging my heels? Son of a bitch! Well, that certainly explains a few things, like who the old man hired to steal the faulty program.

  Someone's awake, and moving in this direction! Well, Fate has been known to favor the bold. I smile and relax, seating myself in the chair behind the desk, waiting patiently.

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Norman Ventriss couldn't believe his stupidity. Being drunk was no excuse for his behavior last night, either at the Dragon Pearl or the Jockey's Club. He'd have to call William and apologize to him later. Slowly making his way down the stairs towards his office and the dry bar, intent on taking a little bite of the hair of the dog -- nothing like a little shot of vodka to cure a hangover -- he entered the converted library.

  "Son of a… Who let you in here?!" He stared in shock at the red-haired woman seated behind his desk.

  "I did. You really have lousy tastes in security programs, Mr. Ventriss." Lee Eolia stood up and came around the desk to face him. He suddenly felt very underdressed in his pajamas, a maroon smoking jacket in place of a proper robe.

  "You broke in here?" He backed away from the woman, not sure what her intentions were.

  "Yes. I did." The expression on his face apparently amused her, because she chuckled. "Oh, do relax, Ventriss. I'm not here to do anything to you. Unless you force me to."

  "What do you want?"

  "I already got part of what I cam
e here for. Too bad I didn't find the DVD-ROM disc, then I really could put the screwing to you that you so richly deserve." She handed him the framed photo. "Nice looking boy in the photo with you."

  "My son, Bradley." His fingers traced the form of his son, the heartache welling up again, as it did every time he thought about his boy.

  "Your son?"

  "My adopted son, but I loved him like he was my flesh and blood." Norman brushed past the small woman, gently placing the frame back on his desk. "He died a few months ago. I never got the chance to say goodbye. He was killed in a stupid jailhouse brawl…" He spun around at the sound of the front door slamming. Lee Eolia was no longer in the room. Moving towards the foyer, pushing curtain aside on the window, he saw a black Lexus 300 pulling down the snow covered drive and turn onto the street. "What a strange woman."