 |
|
|
Part Two
"Celery salt... cinnamon sticks..... cinnamon... another cinnamon.... ground cloves.... cream of tarter.... cumin.... curry powder.... where is it?" Rupert began to chew on the end of his glasses as went back thought the "C" section of his spice cupboard again. "I know I bought ground coriander."
Replacing his glasses onto his nose, Giles gave the cabinet door a slam shut and returned to the stove. Bending over the simmering pot he gave the stew a quick stir and took a taste. It was rare that he had both the time and inclination to fix himself a decent meal so tonight was a treat. He picked up the handwritten recipe and ran his finger down the list of ingredients. "Well Sara, I'm just missing the coriander, forgive me but it is not bad without it." He smiled at the memory of the cook who had been employed by his family. Sara had been like a grandmother to him during his childhood. "God rest her soul." He whispered with a smile.
A sharp knock on the door interrupted his pleasant memories. Rupert looked at his watch. "Not even 7:00." He noted with irritation. Wesley was to be there at 8:00 as they had decided that they would together find and confront this Blanchard. Inform him in no uncertain terms that he was not welcome in Sunnydale.
By the time Rupert answered the door his visitor was on the third series of raps.
"Yes Wesley... Uh, yes? May I help you?" Rupert said to the young man who was standing at the front door holding a small box. The visitor was wearing a brown delivery type shirt and seemed to be reading from the carton label.
"Mr. Rupert Giles?"
"Yes."
The young man looked Rupert in the eye and then his gaze went to a spot over Giles' shoulder.
"What's that?"
Concern shot through Giles as the memory of Angel being able to see shades came rushing into his mind. "What do you see?" He asked as he turned his attention toward the living room.
"A son of a bitch." Matt answered as the sucker punch landed on the side of Rupert's jaw.
As he spun halfway around from the force of the blow, Matt grabbed Giles by the collar and swung his head into the doorframe. Rupert came back with a well placed blow into the younger man's stomach. As his assailant doubled over Rupert's fist came up to meet Matt's face. Matt blocked the blow and plowed his shoulder in Rupert's chest and brought an elbow sharply into the base of his ribs. With the wind knocked out of him Rupert stumbled backwards gasping for breath. Matt landed a flying kick on the side of Rupert's head knocking him to the floor. As Giles began to pull himself up on his hands and knees, Matt grabbed him by the collar and came around with a viscous punch to Rupert's face.
Blood gushed from his nose as he landed on his face with the visitor's boot planted firmly across his neck.
"Who in the bloody hell are..." Giles sputtered and choked as the pressure on his neck increased.
Matt took an envelope from his pocket and began to rip it into increasingly smaller pieces.
"Hope you enjoyed your ass kicking. It's been a long time comin'." Matt announced as he sprinkled the shredded, crumpled envelope like snow around Rupert's head. He removed his boot from Rupert's neck and quickly left without another word. Giles staggered to his feet and steadied himself against a chair as the stranger exited, slamming the door behind him.
"God DAMN!" Rupert swore as he pinched his handkerchief to his bleeding nose. And again he cursed through gritted teeth as the pressure of trying to contain the bleeding sent pain radiating across his face. "I hate Sunnydale..." He observed as he caught sight of his blackening eye and blood stained face in the mirror. "...as if vampires and demons are not enough of a concern." He grimaced as his abused jaw launched a painful protest in regard to his speaking. Again he looked in the mirror, not only was his shirt ruined but his tie was covered with blood. His special tie, had for twenty-one years and they don't make them like this anymore.. "Oh hell...!" He whispered as he held it up to examine. "Police, must call the police before that wanker gets away."
As Rupert picked up the phone to dial 911 a corner of the mangled envelope caught his attention.
r. Richard Gil
317 Stati
LeiceHis father's stationary....
Giles hung up the phone and went down on his hands and knees over the remains of the torn paper. Along with the envelope there seemed to be a letter and a cheque. "What in God's name?"
The smell of burning stew wafted though the living room calling Rupert into the kitchen. No longer in the mood to eat he pulled the pot off of the burner and unceremoniously dumped the entire contents into the trash followed by his ruined tie and bloody handkerchief. Ripping a paper towel off the roll he packed his nose before washing the blood from his hands.
Returning to the puzzle he scooped up the shreds and laid them out on the counter. As he began to uncrumple and separate each one he noted that the largest piece was not even a half inch square. That lunatic had done a splendid job of turning the contents of the envelope into confetti.
Slowly the pieces began to fall into place. The letter was short but to the point.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
2/2/76Regarding correspondence dated 21/1/76
This is to make clear two statements of fact.
Firstly, I spoke to my son and he has no further interest in you. Secondly, your lack of judgment in personal matters is not my difficulty.
Enclosed is a cheque for £750. Seek an abortion or raise the bastard, the choice is yours.
Further contact is neither welcome or warranted.
Mr. Richard Giles
--------------------------------------------------------------------Giles felt lightheaded. "Oh God..." He leaned against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. "...could that be, is that my son?" Rupert's voice trailed off as the shock of the awful truth sunk in. His father had paid off this young lady as if she was no more than a business expense. But his own actions had been just as reprehensible. Random memories flickered of those first months after he had dropped out of Oxford. Running with Ethan, drunk more times than not, stealing, the beginnings of the sorcery, the faceless, nameless women.
He felt nauseous.
Pulling himself back up to the counter, Giles pieced together the address on the envelope.
Miss Gloria Leethy
32177 North Four Oaks - Lost Creek Road
Fletcher, OhioGiles stared at the address. "Gloria Leethy... Fletcher, Ohio." He shut his eyes and whispered. "Were you a tourist? A student abroad?" He racked his brain for the memory, but none was forthcoming. "I do not remember you." He confessed to the accusing envelope. "Not your name, not your face, not... Oh, dear God."
The previous evening's conversation slammed into his mind. The young hunter had asked about him. Then, Buffy's general description: "early twenties, seen him before".
"No it can't be... that would be just too ironic. My son a hunter, never." Rupert steadied himself on the counter edge. "She must have hired them to find me."
He went to the bookcase and retrieved a worn photo album. Staring at the images of himself taken twenty, twenty-five years before he though he could see the echo of the face of that angry young man. "Perhaps there is a resemblance.. perhaps..." He wavered, not wanting to see confirmation.
A knock on the door caused Rupert to grit his teeth in pain as he jerked his head up and around. Was he back for another round? Giles armed himself with a heavy bookend before he answered the door.
"Oh my God! What happened to you!" Were the first words out of Wesley's mouth as his expression went to one of shocked concern.
"I fell down the stairs." Giles lied. "So foolish of me... just missed a step."
Wesley noted the bookend in Rupert's hand then his eyes traveled over to the blood stained carpet three paces into the room. "Who attacked you and why in God's name are you lying to me about it?"
Rupert's voice was without emotion. "I fell... this topic is now closed." He replaced the bookend and headed up the stairs. "I must change my shirt, then we will be on our way."
As Giles disappeared up the stairwell Wesley entered the flat trying to make sense out of Rupert's obvious lie. His brow wrinkled at the sight of the bloody handprints on the chair where Rupert had pulled himself up from the floor. "I should make some tea, calm the old man down a bit." He thought as he stepped toward the kitchen. "What in the..?" He muttered outloud as the blood stained, shredded paper on the counter caught his attention.
"Firstly, I spoke to my son and he has no further interest in you. Secondly, your lack.."
"Leave that be!" Rupert yelled from the stairs. "It is not your concern!"
Wesley began to piece the torn cheque together. Not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice he began to offer his opinion. "I take it the chickens have come home to roost. Who beat you, your illegitimate child or an agent hired by this Miss Leethy?"
Giving Wesley a rough push away, Giles swept the paper bits into a pile. His voice became a snarl. "This does not have any bearing on your duties! It is none of your business!"
"Unless you plan on wearing a sack over your head for the next ten days your appearance is going to upset Buffy." Wyndam-Pryce came back. "And this will affect her abilities, and that makes it my business!"
Rupert turned away as the vision of Wesley's gleeful report to the Council played through his mind. This was too much, he slowly went to the couch and sat with his head in his hands.
"The Mayor's ascension is drawing closer with each passing day. Faith has cast her lot with the evil element of Sunnydale. And now, thanks to one of your youthful 'stag and hen' frolics we have another iron in the fire." Wesley stopped for a breath then went silent as a pain filled sob cut through the room.
"The letter is a lie. I did.. not... not know."
Wesley fiddled with his tie and shifted uncomfortably as Rupert began to shake with anger and remorse. The realization that Giles was on the verge of breaking down was unnerving.
"Let me drive you to the hospital." His offer was rejected with a shake of the head. "Should I fix you a drink?" He asked moving toward Giles.
"No, I would not stop with one.." Giles raised his head. "..just finish your sermon and please go."
With another nervous smoothing of the tie Wesley shook his head. "I have no right to give a sermon on this topic. There was no child, but... ah... for a week I was a very worried seventeen year old. It was very hypocritical of me to comment."
Giles smiled in spite of his state of mind. "Thought you were never away from you studies."
"I, ah.. 'studied' other things... occasionally." Wesley admitted. "Please, tell me what happened." Then with a blink he rephrased the request. "That is today, what happened today. I'm aware of what happened in 1976."
Rupert softly rubbed his cheek. "A young man poising as an agent of a delivery service appeared on the doorstep. He distracted me and then attacked."
"Did he say anything?"
"Only that I was a 'son of a bitch' and that my thrashing was long overdue." Rupert leaned back into the couch. "Correct on both points."
Wesley gave Rupert a hesitant pat on the shoulder. "Bad judgment... ah, remember everyone makes a few regrettable errors in their youth..."
With a wave of the hand Rupert dismissed the Watcher's attempt at justification. "It wasn't a single error, it was my lifestyle. It was a conscious decision to become as wicked as possible. Wesley, I was Hellbound by choice - not by chance. Now twenty-three years later I must add two more names to the list of those who I dragged down into the pit."
Giles let out a long sigh. "Lord knows how many wronged young ladies showed up on my father's doorstep."
Wesley's eyebrow went up.
"I thought it was funny. Would give my conquests his home address as a kind of twisted message to my father. He had no idea where I was, but it certainly enlightened him to what I was doing."
The second eyebrow joined the first. "Oh dear.."
At this Giles suddenly realized the extent of his confession to Wesley. Not a wise move, but it had just poured out. All that was left was confirmation of what he was almost afraid to know. "Describe the young man in the Alliance party." He quietly asked.
Wesley stared at Giles. "Your height, your hair and eye color, slender build..."
Rupert got up and went back to the photo album. "This was taken when I was twenty-four. A week before I entered formal training."
Wesley stared at the photo and then confirmed. "The resemblance is very strong."
"Yes, it is." Giles whispered. "It certainly is."
*~*~*~* "So Angel really bailed on us. A couple of Hunters show up and Mr. Mystery Man runs away." Xander tossed the bait out and waited for Buffy to hit on it.
"Eee-nuff, Xander! He knows about these Alliance jerks. There's no reason he should..."
"Hang around to help? Hey! Maybe he could slug me again? That would make it worth his..."
"He had to do that, you know Faith was..."
Willow waved her hands between the two. "Fun guys! It's Fun Friday night, remember?"
"Xander sat his soda down and clapped his hands. "Oh yeah! Fun, fun, fun. Let's play ten thousand Angel excuses. I go first. I'm dead, so everybody cut me mucho slacko."
Buffy glared across the table. "Damn it Xander, get off of it."
"Good point! I'm dead and damned..."
The Slayer opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it. All it would do is make matters worse. No reason to even try. She rose and stomped over to the coffee bar.
"Why do you do this?" Willow whined. "Why? Angel is a good guy."
"Until the next time he gets his jollies. Sorry Will, but that keeps me from jumping on the 'Hey, hey he's better now' bandwagon." Xander snapped.
"Well, you really know when to start in. Buffy's worried, she couldn't find him anywhere and all his stuff is still at the mansion."
"So?" He shot back. Willow bit her lip and left the table.
"Too bad Oz is setting up, I bet I could piss him off too." Xander though as he watched Willow join Buffy and the two of them deliberately move to the other side of the room. Deciding that it would be better to just leave, he got up and headed out the door.
As he walked away from the Bronze the crowd thinned until he was alone on a side street. Ahead, the entrance to the municipal park beckoned. A shortcut home which he usually avoided, but tonight he didn't care. Maybe if he got vamped he'd get a little respect. Yeah, that's the ticket, become the alternate universe Xander. He raised his hands and went through the park gate toward an imaginary victim. "Brough, ha, ha... I'm bad ass Xander and I have you in my power."
"Well I'm scared." Someone commented behind him.
Xander whirled around toward the man who was leaning up against the entrance pillar with a can of beer in his hand. "Relax, man." He muttered while pulling his T-shirt neck down to reveal a cross. "Wanna beer, Xander? It's Xander ain't it?"
"Yeah, that's it. Who are you and how do you know me?" Xander asked suspiciously.
"You just called yourself 'bad ass Xander'. I'm Matt, one of those piece of shit hunters I'm sure the Slayer told you about." Matt finished his introduction by digging into his canvas bag and handing Xander a can of brew. "Looks like your night sucked, so drink up."
Xander hesitated for a moment before accepting the can. "So you’re just a hunter? Not a zombie bomb maker, or a demon or a giant bug?"
Matt gave Xander a puzzled look. "Giant bug?"
"It's Sunnydale, man. Believe me... it's good to ask these things." Xander explained while moving over toward a bench. "So how did you know tonight sucks?"
"I was at the Bronze. Saw that redhead and the Slayer dump you." Matt joined Harris on the bench. "Some Slayer, she didn't even notice I was there."
"You ain't dead. She just notices dead guys."
Matt took a drink. "Like that shitdead she was hanging with last night? Now there's a piece of work."
"You got that right." Xander muttered while pointing to the yellowing bruise on his face. "But that's okay, 'cause he's on our side."
The hunter looked at the mark on Xander's jaw. "Whoopee shit. If it does that 'on your side' what happens when it changes its mind?"
"Oh, then he stalks us, breaks women's necks, tortures people and - my personal favorite - tries to have the world sucked into hell." Xander opened the beer and took a half can gulp. "But, hey... he got his soul back again, so noooo problemo."
"Got his what back?" Matt asked incredulously.
"His soul. Gypsies put a hoo-doo on him about a hundred years ago. Then he got horizontal with Buffy and 'ooooh noooo' there went Mr. Soul. But Willow slapped the hex back on him and now he's all back together again."
"So? It's still a vampire."
Xander nodded in agreement. "But this is Sunnydale. Vampires with souls, spare Slayers turned to the 'dark side of the force', demons elected mayor, witch burnings at city hall, werewolves. Yup, Sunnydale has it all."
"Whoa, whoa... slow down." Matt tossed his can in the general direction of the waste basket. "Spare Slayer? Thought there was only one?"
"Well, there should be. Faith showed up and became the designated hitter. But she went wacko on us." Xander took another hearty drink. "A bit of advice pal... never let a spazzed out Slayer be on top."
Matt lost it.
Joining in the laughter Xander reached in the duffel bag for another beer. "Wanna see those bruises?"
"Pass.. you wanna see the scar I got from a vamp that was hiding in an outhouse?" Matt stood up and pretended he was loosening his belt.
"No thanks! What was it doing in an outhouse?"
"Aahh, we had taken out a nest of 'em up in 'hell and gone in the sticks' Maine. We knew one of them got away, but couldn't find the son of a bitch."
"And you found him!" Xander laughed.
Matt patted his rump. "Sure did."
Xander settled back onto the bench. "So how's this hunter thing work? They call on the vamp-phone or shine a big 'V' signal into the sky and you guys come running?"
"Yeah, then we jump into the vampmobile and go kick ass." Matt stretched and scanned the area. "Well if you really want to know, we have a connection or two in the Justice Department and a couple of heavy hitters in the FBI crime lab."
"Your shitting me." Xander muttered.
"No, I'm being straight. Hell, you think the Feds don't know about vampires? Get real." The hunter sat back down and lowered his voice. "Been that way since the 1930's when a vamp tried to get at Eleanor Roosevelt." Matt shifted around to glance behind them. "So let's say that the dead dicks and chicks are getting rowdy in East B.F. Texas. They just ain't behaving, starting to feed on important people."
"I think I got it. A head honcho is found with holes in his neck and the FBI gets called in."
Matt nodded. "Then our guy in the lab calls us and we slip into town, stake the target and blow out of there before anyone is the wiser."
Harris rubbed his fingers together. "Who signs your check? Or do you do it just for the good of mankind?"
"The Feds, usually. But sometimes a civilian has enough jack and the right connections to sic us on one." Matt grinned. "We each get twelve grand a job, plus expenses."
"Twelve grand!?" Xander choked on his beer.
"Cash. And since vampires don't exist, neither do we. So we don't pay taxes."
Xander just blinked. "And I've been doing this for free.. where do I sign up?"
"You don't. It's a family business, worse than the mob. There are three clans divided up into eight teams that have been doing this shit since the get-go. I work with one of the Blanchard teams out of Louisiana; then there's Karn and his groups from up in Vermont and the López teams based over in New Mexico." Matt shrugged his shoulders. "I'm one of the few odd men out, was just in the right place at the right time."
"Ya know, I think this might be the wrong place, wrong time." Xander interrupted while giving his head toward the bushes to their right.
Matt pulled a couple of stakes out of his bag. "I think there's two of them." He muttered while sliding a stake over toward Xander. He took a small metal container out of his pocket and dipped a couple of fingers into it. This he also offered to Xander as he rubbed the oil onto his neck. "Chrism Oil, burns 'em like Holy Water but it sticks better. Rub some on you neck just in case."
With this Matt stood and faced the bushes while motioning with his finger for the unseen beings to come out. He raised his stake. "Okay assholes, show your ugly..."
An intense beam from a flashlight hit Matt in the face. "POLICE! FREEZE! DROP YOUR WEAPON!"
Two Sunnydale officers came out of the brush. Matt raised his hands and let the stake fall to the ground. The first officer grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him toward the bench. "Assume it, shithead. Let's see, public intoxication, supplying alcohol to a minor, assaulting a police officer."
Matt turned to face the officer. "Assaulting! What the hell you talking about."
"You threatened us with that piece of wood." Taking hold of Matt's collar he turned him back toward the bench and pushed him forward. "Hands on the bench!" With a rough shove of a foot he pushed the hunter's feet apart. "Spread 'em. Unless you want me to add resisting arrest." He began the pat down. "And concealed weapon, this just ain't your night?" The officer chuckled as he found the switchblade attached to Matt's leg.
The second officer shined his light onto Xander who was standing by the bench, hands raised, beer in one hand stake in the other. "You're that Harris kid - right?"
"Yes Sir..."
"Get out of here..." The officer barked. "...we'll cut you a break since you're a local."
Xander sat the beer and stake down and reached for Matt's bag. The first officer caught the motion. "What's in the bag, boy?"
"My.. my g-g-gym clothes." Xander stuttered.
"Get it and go." The first officer muttered as he pulled out his handcuffs.
Xander backed away with the bag as the officer ordered the hunter to put his hands behind his back. He began to snap the cuffs onto Matt's wrists. (Click) "You have the right to remain (Click) silent, anything you say........ Yeeeaaaaaaaa!" The 'officer' jumped back with a full game face. With a snarl he held his hand up and stared at the burn on his wrist caused by the Chrism Oil residue on Matt's fingers.
The second vampire morphed and went after Xander. "You should have left sooner." It snarled as it made a leap toward him. Xander came around with the canvas bag and nailed the vampire on the side of the head. The three cans and assorted weaponry gave the blow enough force to knock the creature to one side.
Matt spun over and planted himself on the bench. Bracing his back he raised both legs and kicked the burned vampire in the belly.
Xander unzipped the bag and dumped the contents on the ground. A couple more stakes, some small wooden darts with a wicked looking modified slingshot, cross. The vampire regained his footing and charged into Xander as he grabbed up a stake. As they went spinning to the ground creature bared his fangs and bit into Xander's neck. An audible sizzle could be heard as it's lips began to char from the oil. With a howl it involuntarily released its hold on Xander and began to claw at its burn. With one motion Xander plunged the stake into the vampire and was on his feet to help the hunter before the dust had settled.
Even with his hands cuffed behind him Matt was holding his own. The vampire's reckless attack style played right into Matt's kickboxing defense. With every lunge the demon made Matt was able to either land a blow or sidestep. The piercing scream of his companion caused him to take his eyes off of the hunter for a split second. A window of opportunity that Matt took advantage of to send his steel toe boot into the side of the vampire's jaw. With a crack its neck broke as the head spun completely around.
"Ah DAMNIT!" Matt yelled as the vamp went to dust. "Hit the sucker too hard, snapped everything! SHIT!"
"Xander tossed the stake in the air and caught it. "And this is bad?"
Matt turned to show his cuffed wrists. "The key man... the key!" He let loose with a string of curses and kicked a slat out of the back of the park bench.
"Wait a minute!" Xander yelled. "Reel it in and listen up!" Matt shut up and glared at his companion. "They let ME go... they were after YOU!"
The hunter's expression went to stone as he processed this factoid. "This is screwed."
"Welcome to Sunnydale. Remember the Mayors' a demon and he's probably not real happy that you guys are here." Xander pointed out while repacking the scattered contents of the bag.
"Are all the cops vampires?"
"No, this has never happened before. Whenever the Mayor wants to get at 'us' he just sends plain, old, regular vampires." Xander straightened up and pointed a finger at the hunter. ""But 'you guys' blow into town and they start playing dress up."
"Where's a phone? I gotta call John and clue him in." Matt started toward the park gate. "Then we have to get me out of these cuffs."
"There's a payphone about two, three blocks south of here." Xander directed. "You call your buddies, then I'll call Giles. He can get you out of those, he's pretty good with handcuffs."
"Screw that! We don't ask those Watcher bastards for anything."
The venom in Matt's voice caused Xander to stop in his tracks. "Say what? Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but you guys need to get together on this one."
Matt gave his head a toss toward their destination. "Come on, Xander. Move! The work van is parked near the Bronze, there's bolt cutters in there - we can cut the chain." The hunter took off at a trot.
As Xander caught up with him, again he suggested that they call in Giles, Buffy and Wesley - bury the hatchet long enough to figure out what the hell was coming down.
Matt shook his head angrily. "That hatchet has been buried, for about the last fifteen years - right in our backs. And you know who put it there?"
"Oh, let me guess... this is a hard one... The Council of Watchers." Xander responded sarcastically.
"Damn... you're smart. Believe me, all those sons of bitches are good for is screwing a person over and then leaving 'ya high and dry." Matt glanced over at the side of Xander's face. "You looked in a mirror lately? Welcome to the club."
Xander clenched he teeth for a moment. "You don't know it all."
"I know enough, we've been in town since Tuesday night. Been asking questions, checking things out, finding out who's who and what's what."
"There's the phone." Xander pointed across the street a half a block away, not wanting to continue this conversation. But Matt kept on talking.
"And you know what? You're good. Green as hell, but good. Were you serious?"
"Serious about what?"
"Where do you sign up? If you meant it I'll talk to John. Maybe you can leave this hellhole with us. Unless you want to hang around here with a target on your back. Face it that's all they're using you for." Matt stopped in front of the phone. "My wallet, get it and dig out a quarter."
Xander's mind was reeling over the offer to join the Alliance. Pulling the hunter's wallet out of his back pocket he found the coin and dropped it in the slot. "What's the number?"
"555-1861."
He dialed and held the phone up to Matt's ear.
Two rings, a series of tones, then the recording: "We're sorry, but the number you have reached - 555-1861 - is temporarily out of service."
"Out of order! Dial it again." Matt barked.
Xander nodded and dialed again before stealing another look at the Ohio driver's license in the wallet. Matthew R. Giles, Columbus, Ohio. "R. Giles?" He wondered. "That's weird - and this is the guy that was asking...' His thoughts were interrupted by a loud obscenity.
"Fuck!" Matt pulled away from the phone as the recording played again. "Something's bad wrong."
Dropping the wallet into his jacket, Xander glanced around the deserted street. "You think that.. that they've had company?"
"Only one way to find out. You ready for some excitement?" Matt asked.
"Like I said, sign me up."
"Let's get to the van."
Xander gave a thumbs up and they headed back toward the Bronze.
*~*~*~* Xander jumped back alarmed as a tiny spark flew off the metal coupling. "Watch it! I'm not into nineteenth of March fireworks."
Matt raised the remains of the dangling cuff chains higher as he turned off the propane tank. "We got here just in time. The whole thing would have blown." The hunter went back to the open door of the RV.
With a hand on the shoulder Xander tried to stop him from entering. "Let it air out, man."
The hunter slapped the hand away and shined his flashlight through the doorway. "John! T.Paul!" He called out while stepping into the motor home. Under the window Baby's' body lay wound up in the phone line she had destroyed in her attempt to get out. At the door Blitz laid dead, his pale blue eyes frozen wide open.
"Thanks Blitz..." Matt's voice cracked as he rubbed the dogs head. A bundle of wooden matches, rigged to ignite when the door was opened lay soaked in a pool of vomit from the catahoulas' death spasm.
"John! T.Paul!" This time he was answered by the rattling of chain and a deep growl from within the box.
"What the hell was that?" Xander asked from the doorway.
"Nothing. Get in here and help me open some windows will 'ya?" Matt played the beam through the interior. No overt sign of human struggle, no sign of his companions.
Entering Xander pulled his shirt neck up over his nose to try to filter out the gas fumes. Matt pointed the beam toward a bank of windows. "Open 'em." Harris stretched over the wooden box and clicked the window latch, again a growl issued from it. He jumped back. "What's in there?"
"Open the window so we can turn on a light. It's not going to bite you through the lid." Matt snapped as he made his way to the back to open the rear windows. The propane fumes became stronger causing his eyes to water and his head to spin. Through the blurred vision he caught the outline of a body in the bottom bunk. He stood in shock for a moment before he reached over to shake the figure. "T.Paul?" He moved his had up to the neck to check for a pulse.
His fingers smeared through the blood. "NO!"
Xander froze at the sound of Matt's discovery.
The hunter staggered into the main area gagging on the fumes. "He's dead... dead."
"Are.. are you sure?"
The movement and noise from the box became intense.
Matt began to lurch toward the door. "I've seen... enough... dead to know." Xander jerked the window open and ran to help Matt outside. As he half helped - half dragged the hunter from the RV they were illuminated by the headlights of an approaching van. Matt leaned over a trash barrel and began to retch.
"What in God's name is Xander doing here?" Wesley muttered as they came upon the scene.
Giles left the van even before it had come to a complete stop. As he ran over to the two, silhouetted in the headlights Xander straightened and drew back a fist at the approaching figure.
"Xander!"
"Oh man... Giles! We need help. Matt's gassed; he says the other guys' dead for sure; there might be another one in there... What happened to you? Shit! Did they get you too?"
"My God! You've been bitten!" Rupert's eyes widened as he noted the fang marks on Xander's throat."
"I'm fine... it didn't get a chance to feed." Xander waved his hands toward Matt. "He's in worse shape."
"How badly are you injured?" Giles reached over to touch Matt on the shoulder.
The hunter defensively pulled away from the motion. "Get lost!" He wheezed before going down onto his hands and knees.
"Hey, chill! He just asked!" Xander retorted.
Wesley came up to them. "Did you say one of the hunters is dead?"
"Yeah... the only thing moving in there is a vampire they have boxed up. When we opened the door the gas fumes nearly knocked us down." Xander shook his head. "And there was a booby-trap rigged to the door. Its bad... real bad. Now Giles, what happen to you?"
"I fell down the stairs." Rupert's eye caught a phone sign over at the campground office. "Xander go call 911."
"No Cops!" Both Xander and Matt yelled in unison.
Matt struggled to his feet and held out his cuffed wrists. "We've already had one run in with the cops tonight."
"Not really cops, they were vampires in police uniforms." Xander pointed to his neck. "Guess they didn't know they were suppose to eat doughnuts."
"They were what in what?" Wesley asked with his voice edged with concern.
"You got a problem with your ears?" Matt spit as he headed back toward the RV. Giles went to stop him from re-entering only to have the young man draw back on him. "And I told you to get lost."
"As you know I'm very good at that. But I'm not going anywhere this time." Giles said in a low voice.
This veiled confession was the last thing Matt expected to hear. Even though his fists remained clenched he lowered them slightly. Another spasm of nausea caused him to weave.
"Is the gas turned off?" Giles asked.
The hunter nodded and steadied himself on a picnic table. "Yeah, both bottles."
"Very good. Both you and Xander have been exposed, please let Wesley and I take care of ventilating the motor home." Giles motioned for Wesley to join him. "Be careful." He whispered pointing to the matches. "There was one trap, there might be others."
"Splendid..." Wesley muttered.
Both Watchers covered their noses with their handkerchiefs and entered. Matt's flashlight lay on the floor eerily spotlighting Baby's frozen snarl. Giles picked up the light and made his way toward the back. The fumes had lessened considerably making his task less threatening, but still his blackened eye began to swell and water. By the time he had opened every window his nose had begun to bleed once again from the irritating gas.
"Quickly, Mr. Giles!" Wesley called from the doorway, more than a little nervous over the fumes and the commotion from within the box.
Giles stood beside T.Paul's body and pulled the blanket down a bit to examine the corpse. Flat on his back with his arms crossed over his chest, it was obvious the man had been 'laid out' after death. "Wesley! Come here please. Look at this!"
Wyndam-Pryce hurried to the back, his eyes immediately traveling to T.Paul's hands. The hair went up on the back of his neck. "What does it mean?"
"I'm not sure, but 'The Godfather' just went through my mind."
"Who is that?"
"He never did leave his house, that confirms it." Rupert thought, then he gave his head a half shake and began to back out of the room. "I believe we need to have a talk with that hunt.. with Matthew."
Before following Rupert out of the room Wesley took a last look at the mass of hundred dollar bills fanned out from under T.Paul's cold fingers.
*~*~*~* Plink! The question appeared on the monitor.
Michael Blanchard wanted more details, of course he did. Matt paused for a moment before he typed a response.
BlanchardJ: We had a DD contained for questioning. It claims that someone knocked on the door - John & T.Paul left with them. Heard someone enter soon after, then it smelled gas. Perp then left. T.Paul returned alone 25 or so minutes later. Heard him swear when he found the dogs then it sounded like he was ambushed as he started to turn off the gas. I arrived with the L.I. approx. 3/4 - 1 hour later @ 21:00. Found T.Paul drained and the dogs gassed, no sign of John. Money stuffed under his hands - 12 grand - all in new hundreds. No blood in the mouth - doesn't look like he has been turned.
BlanchardM: You were gone how long?
BlanchardJ: Was on dusk recon - about 3 hours.Wesley leaned over Matt's shoulder and touched the screen. "What does 'D D' and 'L I' stand for?"
"Dead dick, local informant, now back off." Matt answered curtly while shoving Wesley's hand away..
BlanchardM: DD lying?
BlanchardJ: Don't think so. They left it to fry - if they were together they would have cut it loose.
BlanchardM: L.I with us?
BlanchardJ: Knows his shit - he's with the program.
BlanchardM: Anybody else involved?Matt hesitated.
BlanchardJ: No.
BlanchardM: DD status?
BlanchardJ: Dusted.
BlanchardM: Good & good. Stand by for instructions."Why did you lie?" Wesley asked still hovering over Matt's shoulder.
"Because it's already fucked up enough. If Mike knew that you two were in it with your shitdead pal he'd go ballistic." He spun the chair around. "He got hosed by your handlers, big time. Now you wanna back off before I put your tea drinkin' ass in the box?"
Angel came forward but was stopped by Rupert's hand on his shoulder. "Let's not escalate, everyone is a bit tense." He softly said to the vampire.
"Your call." Angel muttered. "But be ready for him to go off on Wesley."
As Wesley and Matt played 'stare down' Giles watched the hunter for any sign of intent that he was about to carry through with his threat. When Wesley fiddled with his tie and moved back a bit Rupert let out a sigh of relief.
Breaking off his stare Matt pointed up at a shelf above Xander's head. "Hand me that canvas roll.”
Rupert's mind played through the last half hour. After the initial shock of helping examine the body Matt's cold acceptance of his fellow hunter's murder had come too quickly. Also he had been much too rapid in his denial of any knowledge concerning the significance of the money. And his absolute disdain for anything or anyone connected with the Council of Watchers was as obvious as his pure hate of Angel. All this, coupled with the knowledge that Matt was his son made Rupert extremely uneasy. He was looking at a copy of "Ripper" well on his way to ruin.
"A very good copy." He thought as he realized what Matt had asked Xander to retrieve. The roll had contained a set of lockpicks and other burglary tools each held snugly in their own customized pocket. Matt chose one and began to free his wrists from the remains of the handcuffs.
Running his finger down the line of B & E accessories Xander tapped a black box. "What's that?" He asked the hunter.
"Codebreaker... to get past electronic lockouts." Matt answered as the first cuff piece hit the floor.
Xander grinned. "That legal?"
"Hell no. Had to build it myself." Matt rubbed his wrist and stared at the monitor before starting on the other lock. "Learned the basics of how to do it in J.D."
"Where's J D?" Wesley asked while watching the young man free himself.
"Well, back home it was down on County Road 25-A. Nice place if all you want is three hots and a cot. Spent four years there, off and on. Hit the road two minutes after I got out the last time." The second cuff piece hit the carpet. "And as you can see, I'm reformed now."
Wesley just blinked until Xander clued him in. "Aahh, Wes... J.D. stands for Juvenile Detention."
"I see." Wesley glanced at Rupert's pained expression.
"What'd you do?" Xander asked continuing the thread.
"Lots'a stuff. Ran away a bunch of times, assault with intent, a couple of vandalism raps... last send off was for the grand theft auto and..."
"I do not believe we want to know." Giles interrupted.
Matt chuckled at Rupert's discomfort as he replaced the pick. He rolled the tool pouch back into a bundle and tied it shut. Turning back to the monitor he settled in to wait for Mike to come back to them.
The five watched the cursor blink for almost two minutes before Rupert broke the silence. "Have we been disconnected?"
"Cut Mike some slack. He and John are brothers and T.Paul is their nephew." Matt rubbed the cuff bruises and softly corrected himself. "Was their nephew." He turned to Angel. "This doesn't make any sense. Run it by me again dead boy."
"My name is Angel, use it."
"When you start breathing, maybe I will."
"Enough, Matthew!" Rupert snapped. "You should learn the art of tact. It might come in handy some day."
"Courtesy is a sign of weakness." The hunter sneered. "So, did the dogs go nuts before the gas came on? Did this son of a bitch access the computer? Anything else?"
Angel bristled at the tone. "No, no and no." He answered moving toward the door. "I'm going to see what I can find out."
"Don't let the door hit 'ya in...."
Plink! A response from Mike Blanchard appeared. Angel stopped in the doorway as the hunter's attention went back to the screen.
BlanchardM: Conferenced w/ C.K. in MA & J.S. at the DC lab - we think this sounds like Roth's work. Don't touch the body anymore or call in the locals. C.K. is sending team 2 to Memphis for recon. Take work van and all importants you can load and blow out of there. Go to L.L. home base/Albuquerque & lay low. Contacted T.J. - she's on her way from Salt Lake to take care of T.Paul.
BlanchardJ: No - I have to find John.
BlanchardM: John is dead.
BlanchardJ: We don't know that.
BlanchardM: Follow orders!
BlanchardJ: Waiting on T.J. - I'll hook up with her crew.
BlanchardM: Negative! Follow orders or you're shitcanned.When Matt didn't answer the threat a second message followed quickly.
BlanchardM: You hear me Giles? Get your ass out of there - CONFIRM!
Rupert flinched at seeing his family name on the screen. Xander caught the twitch along with Wesley's raised eyebrow.
BlanchardJ: Confirmed. I'm going. M.G./sign off.
BlanchardM: M.B./sign off.Matt disconnected and began to shut down the computer.
"Who is Roth and the others mentioned in the message?" Rupert asked. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Angel give a sign that the name meant nothing to him before he slipped away.
"None of you business." Matt answered as he began to unhook cables.
"It is now." Giles came back as he leaned over the desk.
Matt came up in his face. "You crusin' for 'another' ass kicking, Old Man?"
Xander went to Rupert's side. "Say what?" He asked as he glanced back and forth between them. "Wanna clue me in or do I just start putting two and two, or maybe Giles and Giles together?"
Rupert did not move. "Xander, Wesley - would you kindly excuse yourselves for a moment?"
Wesley motioned with his finger for Xander to follow him outside. As the door closed behind them Rupert straightened but did not relax his guard. "Who did this and why? Rest assured that we will find out this information, but I would like to hear your side of it."
"All I have to say to you is - 'go to hell'."
"You will have to do better than that. You see, I've been to hell more times than you can imagine."
"Stay there the next time."
"Where I'll be waiting on your assured arrival." Rupert hissed back. "But while we are both still in this mortal sphere let me make something perfectly clear - I did not know about the letter; I did not know about your mother's pregnancy; I did not know about your birth."
Matthew's expression did not change as he silently turned back to his task.
It wasn't as if he believed for a moment that this information would be received well, but Matt's complete disregard was not the reaction he expected. Rupert's tone softened. "I am willing to pay for any testing if you want to make sure about this. But... between the letter and your physical appearance, I don't believe it's necessary."
Again no response of any kind from the hunter.
"So you want nothing from me? Very well. But, in the very least let 'us' help you." Rupert whispered. "Help both you and The Alliance find who or what is responsible for this crime."
This statement was acknowledged with a cold stare. "Rule one - the Alliance takes care of its own."
"Who is this Roth?"
"Look him up yourself or have your pet vampire clue you in." Matt snapped. "You already know too much. Better yet, get on the horn to your pal Travers - pick his brain for awhile."
"How do you know Quentin Travers?"
Matt disappeared under the desk and began to collect the cables. "Scum always rises to the surface, especially if you wave enough cash around." Matt came back up looping the connectors around his hand. "He fingered you."
Giles could not hide his shock. "He gave you my address?"
Matt picked up the monitor, heading for the door he gave Rupert a cross between a sneer and a grin. "Found 'ya, didn't I?" As he elbowed the door open the humor in his expression vanished leaving only the hate. "Catch 'ya later... Dad." He said loud enough for all to hear.
Rupert held up his hand. "Wait! I need to know."
Passing by Wesley and Angel as if they were not there Matt went up to Xander. "Open up the van, will 'ya?"
"Matthew!" Rupert called as he exited the RV. Wesley stepped in front of him and whispered something.
"Maybe I can't hold a beer and a half; or maybe it was the fumes; but did you just call Giles what I thought you did?" Xander queried as he went to the van.
"Yeah, he's my old man - lucky me." Matt waited for Xander to swing the door back. "So, you coming along or staying?" He placed the monitor into the van. "I could use your help."
Xander stared at the hunter for a moment and then over to Rupert, Angel and Wesley who were having a quiet discussion among themselves at the RV door.
"We're not going to Albuquerque are we?" Harris whispered handing Matthew his wallet back.
Matt smiled at the plural reference. "You got that right."
|
|