Highlander - Donna Lettow [73]
But just as he was about to enter the café, he was alerted to the presence of another Immortal nearby. His eyes scanned the street, but the source was not evident. So much for that coffee, MacLeod thought, moving off in the direction of the sensation.
He strode cautiously down the street, his hand itching for his katana, but not here, too public. MacLeod contented himself with the knowledge that it was at hand should he need it. He passed several shops and a vacant storefront. Closer, but still no Immortal. Beyond the empty store, an alleyway.
There. MacLeod stopped just short of the alley, collected himself for a moment, then turned the corner, ready for anything.
“Well, if it isn’t the goy!” Anything hadn’t really included the sight of Avram Mordecai in a dark suit and a security earpiece, flanked by two more Israeli security men who eyed MacLeod’s battle-ready stance suspiciously. Avram, on the other hand, was beaming at him. “Wow, are you out of context.”
“Avram? What are you doing here?” MacLeod tried to be circumspect in the presence of Avram’s “friends.”
“Don’t you read the papers, MacLeod? Making sure terrorists don’t bring Paris down around our ears before the Jerusalem peace talks are over. Israel calls, and I answer, same as always.” Avram turned to his colleagues. “Keep searching along the perimeter. I’ll catch up.”
As the Israeli security team moved off, MacLeod said, “I was just going around the corner for a coffee. You got a few minutes?”
“For you, I’ve got all the time in the world.” The two old comrades walked back toward the café. “God, it’s great to see you again,” Avram said, slapping MacLeod on the arm with almost boyish enthusiasm.
MacLeod had to agree. Although a half a century had passed between them, it seemed like only minutes since they had worked, fought, ate, and died together as one. It felt like they were immediately back in sync, as they’d been in War-saw. “I tried to find you again after the war. I was afraid you hadn’t made it.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” Avram laughed. “I’m Indestructible Man! Faster than a speeding bullet, more lives than Wile E. Coyote.” He paused to open the door to the coffeehouse. “It was chaos after the war. I went through a whole list of new names, new identities, you know how it goes. The British were after me for smuggling refugees into Israel, had to get them off my back.”
They took a table by the window, from which they could see the Ministry building, and placed their order. MacLeod explained, “It wasn’t until I met Marcus Constantine a few years back that I found out you were still out there raising hell.”
“Good old Marcus,” Avram said with a fond smile. “I didn’t know you two knew each other. Hey, he’s invited me for drinks at his place tomorrow night, you should come. Then, when he starts rambling on about the Roman conquest of Galatia, I’ll have someone interesting to talk to.” They shared a laugh.
Their coffees arrived and Avram raised his cup in a toast. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”
“L’chayim, ” MacLeod returned.
Avram chuckled. “Showoff.” Then his eyes got a far away look and MacLeod realized he was listening to his headset. Avram set his coffee cup down in a daze, concentrating, then his eyes focused and he swung into action, pushing back from the table. “Sorry to stiff you, Duncan. Put it on my tab. Duty calls.” Avram raced out the door.
Through the window, MacLeod could see the members of the press scrambling in front of the Ministry of Education building as people hurried out the doors, evacuating into the street. He threw a couple of bills on the table and hurried out after Avram.
Avram pressed through the confused crowd milling in the street outside the building until he reached one of the uniformed French security men trying to maintain order in chaos. “Where’s your commanding officer?” Avram shouted over the crowd noise, and the cop indicated his superior, twenty yards away.
Avram ran toward the