curiouswombat (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
curiouswombat) wrote2007-06-18 10:41 pm
curiouswombat) wrote2007-06-18 10:41 pm
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Access All Areas chapter 13.
It's taken a while to get this chapter of the story being jointly written by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
speakr2customrs and myself, visits from Daughter-dear and friend, the TT, all sorts of things, have slowed progress slightly, but we are happy with this now.
So -
Access All Areas Chapter 13
3,900 words
Overall story rating is NC17 - but this chapter is about a PG for language only.
Previous chapters are Here.
CHAPTER 13.
“She was not quite as tall as I am, and she had dark hair and darker skin than mine. Spanish or Italian, maybe. She said that she was from Paris, but I think she didn’t sound French.” Jarmila described the girl who had beaten her quite badly in hand-to-hand combat.
“Never heard anything in Paris that would’ve made me think there was any Slayer except Sylvie-Louise around,” Spike confirmed. Sylvie-Louise was the official Paris Slayer.
Jarmila smiled at Spike, and then continued “I do not know how to describe the way she fought – there were blows, and more blows, from all directions. I didn’t know where to block. I have never met anyone who could beat me so easily. No, not even you, Spike,” she added, as the vampire opened his mouth to say something.
Jarmila was breathing and moving easily now, but both her torso and her jaw bore witness to just how many blows the other Slayer had managed to land on her.
“And then she just disappeared – it was as if she became invisible,” she added.
“Could it be a magic item, Willow?” Giles asked the witch.
“I guess so,” she answered. “I can’t think of anything else that would work, not unless she had one of those rocket pack things,” she finished, with a smile.
Dawn found herself about to say “Like Warren?” but bit her tongue and said nothing. There were some things best left buried deep in the memory.
“Was there anything else that might help us find her?” Milan asked his Slayer.
“Just one thing,” Jarmila said thoughtfully. “She wore her hair in a fringe but it was pushed over as we fought and I noticed a tattoo on her forehead.”
The atmosphere in the room changed suddenly. Those who had been in Sunnydale all looked at Jarmila with increased interest but it was Giles who asked her to describe the tattoo.
“Just black, no colour, I think. Lines across with something in the centre - like a sword pommel, or a ram’s head maybe, I did not see it very well,” said the Slayer slightly apologetically.
“The fucking Knights!” Spike burst out.
“It is a possibility,” Giles said slowly, “but I really thought that they no longer existed, and I cannot see them recruiting a young woman, even if she is a Slayer.
“Could you possibly draw the design as far as you can?” he asked Jarmila, passing her a pen and paper.
Spike moved to Dawn’s side and she was glad of his hand on her arm; she felt shaky and slightly sick. Ethan Rayne and organised criminals were bad enough, but if The Knights of Byzantium were involved with this other Slayer then surely she must also be out to harm Dawn. She felt that things had moved from ‘be afraid’ to ‘be very afraid’.
Willow was looking at her, as was Mhairi; Dawn thought her fear must be positively palpable, she felt like her fifteen year old self again. Then Spike said “Remember when we were in that Winnebago and those buggers were after us? Remember Anya knocking that guy out with the frying pan? She had a wonderful way with a pan did Anya!”
Suddenly Dawn wanted to smile – memories of Spike’s hands bleeding from grasping the sword through the roof, Giles impaled and the Winnebago overturning were driven away with the mental picture of Anya, wearing her ‘resolve face’, wielding her pan. Which, she realised, was just what Spike had intended.
Jarmila was concentrating on her drawing, eyes part closed and tongue held between her teeth as she tried to visualise the design on the other Slayer’s face, so briefly glimpsed. Milan was watching her with interest, and Dawn knew that by the time they would notice her again she would be back in control of her emotions. Gratefully she squeezed Spike’s hand, took a deep breath, and turned a calm face to look at the design now becoming clear on Jarmila’s paper.
As the design that Jarmila drew became clearer it was obvious to those who had seen it before that, no matter how unlikely, the Slayer who had defeated Jarmila was linked to the Knights of Byzantium.
Dawn pointed out that it was now even more important that she and Giles return to the Records Office as planned, as much of what she had copied into her note-book referred to men of honour in Constantinople as well as Brothers in Prague, and it had mentioned a ‘she’ who would ‘slay’. Whilst Dawn had presumed this to refer to Buffy, perhaps it didn’t and they really, really needed to go back and look at the documents again.
Giles agreed that this new finding did, indeed, make the trip to the Record Office a very high priority but there was still much discussion about which of the locator spells must now take precedence for Willow and Mhairi the next morning. By the time that the issue was resolved everyone needed their sleep.
……………………….
The Ferret uttered the phrase of Dismissal and the gangster’s shade faded into nothingness. “So,” the magician said, “my hypothesis was correct.”
“Apparently so,” Ethan agreed. “A Slayer. One who just came in and killed without hesitation or mercy. And used guns.” He shook his head. “That’s scary. They’re bad enough when they just have pointed sticks.”
“Or fresh fruit,” The Ferret added. “It is definitely time for us to run away.”
Ethan frowned. The Ferret had picked up on a fairly obscure Monty Python reference. That seemed out of character; previously he had seemed oblivious to such things. The precision of The Ferret’s English had slipped slightly on occasions, too, and Ethan began to wonder if his original theory, that The Ferret was a foreigner who was merely pretending to be English, was in error. Perhaps it was actually a double bluff and he was an Englishman pretending to be a foreigner pretending to be English.
Not that it mattered. “I’m all in favour of that, dear boy,” Ethan agreed. “Let us be off to Constantinople.”
“It’s Istanbul,” The Ferret corrected him, “not Constantinople.” He spoke without inflection, absolutely deadpan, and Ethan could not tell if this was coincidence or yet another instance of The Ferret revealing a knowledge of popular culture.
Ethan smiled. “That’s nobody’s business but the Turks.”
……………………….
Spike sat on a rather hard chair in the space between two of the tall narrow windows that provided the natural light to the reading room. Luckily it was a rather grey, damp day, and little sunlight was available for the task today.
Rupert had cleaned his glasses with vigour after his first glance at the first of the books which Dawn had requested from the librarian, and was now murmuring “Oh my goodness! Oh my dear girl! Yes – well this tells us a great deal.”
Spike took in a deep breath and savoured the smell of old books and manuscripts, which truth to tell he rather liked, although he would have admitted this to very few people. The rancid smell of a century’s sweating readers that accompanied it he thought that he could have done without. He decided that he might just sit and gaze at Dawn’s neck as she leant over a book, and possibly have a small bet with himself as to how many times Rupert would either clean his glasses, or say “Oh my goodness!” before they left the reading room.
“Spike,” Dawn’s voice broke into his reverie, “Could you just translate this bit while I go and see if I can find any more stuff that I might have missed the other day? You know you can read hand-written Latin better than me anyway.”
It said a lot for the growing understanding between Giles and Spike that Giles did not raise an eyebrow at that suggestion at all. This lack of reaction amused Spike even more than previous assumptions of his ignorance had done in the past but, as of old back in Sunnydale, he kept this amusement to himself and made a show of grumbling about Dawn being a bully – he was only here as the brawn.
Soon however he was deep in the history of the founding of the Order of Dagon.
“Fucking Hell, Watcher!” he suddenly blurted out, causing one or two heads to turn in his direction. “Listen to this – many lives of men after the fall of the city evil-doers will lay covetous and impious hands upon the Key. In that time shall the Sword of God, flesh of thy flesh, descend from on high and smite the evil-doers, and she shall slay them without mercy.
“I know that Dawn didn’t go into all the details when she spoke to you, but I would say that evil-doers sure as Hell laid covetous and impious hands on the Key the other night!”
At the look of horror on Giles’ face Spike hurried to clarify what he meant. “Only hands, mind, Rupert, nothing worse than that, but it would have been a sexual assault if it had been a court case.”
Giles wiped his glasses vigorously, and Spike had the distinct impression that were Ethan Rayne to walk into the room at that minute The Ripper would rip him limb from limb. ‘Good job he hasn’t,’ thought Spike, ‘Cos I want that pleasure for myself!’
……………………….
There had been some discussion about whether to tell Milan and Jarmila about The Key and its being Dawn. Dawn herself pointed out that even if Giles explained it all to them, right down to her being ‘cloned’ from Buffy, the chances were that ten minutes later they would have forgotten anyway.
Eventually Giles, Dawn and Spike agreed that they would answer any questions Milan and Jarmila asked with an explanation of what The Key could do, and that it had been magically embedded in Dawn by the Order of Dagon when Glory had threatened it – embedded with irreversible magic. If they ever asked.
When they returned to Milan’s office the witches locator spells were the main topic of conversation though.
“I can come up with an area of Prague where the Slayer is, but I can’t get close,” Willow explained, somewhat frustratedly. “There is something blocking our spell. I guess either our girl has some sort of talisman, or she’s somewhere with wards and protection spells on that are about the same as the ones I put onto our hotel rooms.
“But I am fairly sure that if she moves around the city she’ll show up on my map,” she finished, with a grin and a flourish of her hand towards a map pinned to Milan’s wall on which there was a patch of blue light.
Dawn had seen this spell on many occasions, and she could see what Willow meant about lack of accuracy – usually there would have been a tiny pin-point rather than something that was spread across five or six blocks. Still, if the patch began to move towards wherever Dawn was herself it would give a fairly good warning.
“Ethan Rayne took longer – but with Mhairi and I linked and using the book he had handled, along with my memories of him, we finally got a tag on him about half an hour ago – at the airport. Looks as if he’s moving on,” Willow continued.
“He’s not getting away that easily!” Spike snapped. “Can you hack into the computers and see where he’s flying to?”
“If he’s using his own name, then I’m pretty sure I could,” Willow answered, “but Milan has just gotten up the departures on screen, and I can tell when he starts to move very quickly – so we can get a pretty good idea which flight he’s on.”
“And wherever it is, I’ll be after the bastard,” Spike said, grimly.
Just at that moment Spike’s phone vibrated in the pocket of his coat, just where Dawn was leaning against him, making her giggle. Spike looked at the message, and a smile cracked across his face. “That’s my girl!” he said “Ilona wants me to ring her. ‘Scuse me.” He left the office space and headed into the nearest book stack.
Willow looked at Dawn and raised an eyebrow – awaiting Dawn’s reaction. Truth to tell, Dawn wasn’t a hundred percent happy about Spike’s friendship with Senora Costa Bianchi, but this wasn’t the time to say so, so she smiled back and said “I hope she’s got good news – we could do with a lucky break right now.”
Mhairi had been bustling around making tea, coffee and sandwiches, but she now interrupted the exchange between Dawn and Willow. “He’s moving!”
Sure enough, on the other map on the office wall, a small red dot had begun to accelerate along the line of one of the airport runways.
Milan said “There is one flight departing to Istanbul, and another to London. It could be either.”
“O…kaaay,” Willow said slowly. “Now we move from magic to technology! Give me coffee, and a keyboard, and I’ll look at the relevant passenger lists!”
……………………….
“Well I really think we are getting somewhere. Well done Willow, Spike,” Giles said, with a slight smile.
“Ethan is leaving Prague for Istanbul travelling in the company of a Mr. Graham Fairbanks, and Signora Costa Bianchi tells us that he is working with, or possibly for, a fellow mage known as The Ferret who is familiar to her as a purveyor of information. A reliable source of military and industrial secrets and any other secret information he can get his hands on that someone else might buy.”
He paused to take a few sips from his tea-cup that Mhairi had just re-filled, then continued “This Ferret could possibly have stumbled on my work on The Key, and of course Dawn’s as my assistant, and passed on information to some vestigial remnant of the Knights of Byzantium; or possibly he learnt of The Key from such a person or persons and is intent on selling the information on.
“I cannot see it being a co-incidence that we have Ethan and this Ferret/Fairbanks person going from Prague to Istanbul and a Slayer, bearing the insignia of an ancient Istanbul based order which was intent on destroying The Key, here in Prague.”
“Fair summing up,” said Spike, “but what are we going to do about it all? We hanging round here to try and find your Slayer who likes to say ‘Nee’; or heading off to Istanbul to rend Ethan sodding Rayne, and his mate the mustelid, limb from bloody limb?”
“Well firstly I think we should contact Andrew and get him or one of his staff to, um, ferret out what information they can on this, um, member of the family Mustelidae,” Giles said, causing almost everyone in the room except Spike to look somewhat confused.
Spike grinned. “Ferret – verb – to poke around looking for things; ferret – noun -member of a carnivorous group of small sleek animals called mustelids, or Mustelidae. Guess this might be where he got the name from, eh, Rupert?”
‘I bet Giles never thought of him and Spike swapping intellectual jokes back in Sunnydale,’ Dawn thought, smiling, as she watched Milan scribble down a note, probably of what Spike had just said, whilst both Willow and Mhairi looked as if they found the conversation amusing, and Jarmila looked as if she was getting bored standing around.
……………………….
The General switched off his mobile phone and slipped it back into his pocket. “They have taken off,” he informed his daughter and Minta. “Time for us to follow.”
“Our priority should be the Key,” Minta grumbled. “It must be destroyed.”
“I’m not going to take on another Slayer, a vampire, a Watcher and a couple of witches,” Anna declared. “I’m not a Predator. Even if I could beat them all it would attract far too much attention. I don’t want to be shot by the Czech police or end up going to jail for murder.”
“I agree with Anna,” the General stated. “We have gained much information here. We can strike against the Key on a future occasion. Our task for now must be to destroy these evil men who seek to use the Key for their profit. And their Turkish allies.”
Minta sighed. “Very well, General Konstantios. I shall obey.”
“Thank you.” The General turned to his daughter. “Have you finished packing?”
“Pretty much, dad,” Anna replied. “Just a few things left that can go into a flight bag. And I’ll have to ditch the spoke in the river.”
“Do so, then,” the General said. “Minta?”
“The same,” the Seer told him.
“Good. My own packing is complete. Oh, yes, Minta. That notebook that Anna found. Return it to me, please. I’ll take a look at it on the plane. It should while away the time fairly well.”
“I assure you that it contains nothing of value,” Minta said.
“I shall judge that for myself,” the General said.
“I have hours of music to listen to,” Anna said, “thanks to Dawn Summers.” She frowned. “That’s if they don’t take the phones off me at the airport. What are the current security regulations, anyway?”
The General shrugged. “Who knows? They are changeable, complicated, and operate more by the whim of officials than according to any logical basis. They could best be described, perhaps, as… Byzantine.”
……………………….
An hour later Jarmila looked a good deal more bored, or at least she looked as if she wanted to go out and kill something, possibly to prevent her killing someone in the room just to stop them arguing.
Giles wanted Dawn to go home to Watchers’ Council Headquarters where she would be safe.
Spike wanted to go to Istanbul, as soon as possible, to do as much damage as possible to Ethan Rayne and his companion who he would find somehow.
Willow and Mhairi wanted to go to Istanbul because, as both Ethan and The Ferret were magic users, their fire-power might well be required.
Giles was torn between the need for someone to help Milan and Jarmila monitor the unknown Slayer, going to Istanbul to be some sort of restraining influence on Spike in particular, and going back to England with Dawn.
Except that Dawn was determined to go to Istanbul.
She pointed out that as the rogue Slayer seemed to have both her phone and Spike’s, with contact details for Watchers’ Headquarters amongst other things, she might turn up there anyway; and she, Dawn, did not want to be responsible for Slayer fighting Slayer. She said that she trusted Spike, Willow and Mhairi to keep her safe in Istanbul, and she didn’t want to be treated as something fragile to be wrapped in cotton wool and hidden away.
Privately she thought Spike would be less likely to go off full tilt and get himself into something he couldn’t get himself out of if he had her right there to worry about, but thought it better not to say so out loud. Instead she insisted that, if this Slayer bore the ceremonial tattoos of the Knights of Byzantium, then more research needed to be done about them; and Istanbul was the place to do it.
Spike paced restlessly as if he was ready to start walking to Istanbul immediately. He vacillated between wanting Dawn to go home and live in a bomb shelter in the very middle of Watchers’ Headquarters – preferably with twenty armed Slayers around her at all times – and agreeing that she had the right to go to Istanbul, where he would keep her safe; bloody right he would.
In the end Dawn won her argument by pointing out that it might be a lot easier to find Ethan and his associate if she was there as bait. Even if they knew that was why she was there, not being stupid, she reckoned that they still wouldn’t be able to resist and Giles had to agree, knowing Ethan from of old, that she was quite right.
However, if Dawn was indeed going to Istanbul, then Giles would go as well. Flights would need to be organised, hotel rooms booked, and arrangements made for one or two of the Outreach Watchers to come to Prague to work with Milan and Jarmila in the search for the Byzantine Slayer.
It looked likely that it would be the next day before they could all make the trip. There were only two direct flights between Prague and Istanbul each day, and the second one was in only another three hours – too soon to get anyone else to come and help Milan and Jarmila monitor the rogue Slayer, even from Krakow where the nearest other official Slayer was based.
However the phone conversation between Giles and Andrew saw to it that not only would the full research capability of the Council be turned to finding out as much as possible about The Ferret, but someone would be at Istanbul airport to spot Ethan Rayne and Graham Fairbanks leaving the plane, and tail them in the city.
……………………….
The observer drew on a cigarette and allowed twin trails of smoke to issue from his nostrils. He glanced idly at the pair of soldiers who walked past. Their G-33 assault rifles were held at the port ready for instant action against any terrorist threat, and the tramp of their heavy boots reinforced their no-nonsense image, but the snatch of conversation that he caught showed that their minds were occupied with the forthcoming Galatasaray- Fenerbahçe derby.
It would still be advisable not to attract their attention, however, and the observer was glad that his visual memory was good enough that he would not need to refer to the photos of the subjects that had been sent to his mobile phone.
Ah. There they were. He watched them out of the corners of his eyes as he blew out another plume of smoke and feigned directing his attention at the people still emerging from the terminal building.
They did not go to the taxi rank. They were accompanied by a local, who had presumably met them inside the terminal, and he led the two Englishmen towards a car park.
The observer ostentatiously looked at his watch, sighed, tossed down his cigarette and walked off. Hopefully anyone who had taken notice of him would believe that he had been waiting for someone who had not arrived. He followed his targets at a distance until he saw them get into a car. A limousine, rather; apparently their Turkish contacts had wealth and power.
The observer turned and made for the bay in which he had parked his motorcycle. He had lost some ground to the car but his nippy little conveyance was able to slip through the traffic with ease. He dodged a dolmus that swerved towards him, the driver seemingly determined to disobey the exhortations on the traffic signs that read ‘Don’t be a traffic monster’, and spotted the limousine ahead. He slowed, allowing the dolmus to pass him again, and settled down to his task of tailing the Englishmen.
He followed them all the way to a street off Istiklal Cadesi. He noted where the car stopped but did not attempt to halt and follow them on foot. Everyone knew who controlled this street. Any attempt to make a closer investigation would be very hazardous for a lone Greek. It would be enough. The General would be satisfied.
The ’BtVS’ characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only and all rights remain with Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the writers of the original episodes, and the TV and production companies responsible for the original television shows. BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER ©2002 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All Rights Reserved. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer trademark is used without express permission from Fox.
Feedback is, as always, much appreciated.
speakr2customrs and myself, visits from Daughter-dear and friend, the TT, all sorts of things, have slowed progress slightly, but we are happy with this now.So -
Access All Areas Chapter 13
3,900 words
Overall story rating is NC17 - but this chapter is about a PG for language only.
Previous chapters are Here.
CHAPTER 13.
“She was not quite as tall as I am, and she had dark hair and darker skin than mine. Spanish or Italian, maybe. She said that she was from Paris, but I think she didn’t sound French.” Jarmila described the girl who had beaten her quite badly in hand-to-hand combat.
“Never heard anything in Paris that would’ve made me think there was any Slayer except Sylvie-Louise around,” Spike confirmed. Sylvie-Louise was the official Paris Slayer.
Jarmila smiled at Spike, and then continued “I do not know how to describe the way she fought – there were blows, and more blows, from all directions. I didn’t know where to block. I have never met anyone who could beat me so easily. No, not even you, Spike,” she added, as the vampire opened his mouth to say something.
Jarmila was breathing and moving easily now, but both her torso and her jaw bore witness to just how many blows the other Slayer had managed to land on her.
“And then she just disappeared – it was as if she became invisible,” she added.
“Could it be a magic item, Willow?” Giles asked the witch.
“I guess so,” she answered. “I can’t think of anything else that would work, not unless she had one of those rocket pack things,” she finished, with a smile.
Dawn found herself about to say “Like Warren?” but bit her tongue and said nothing. There were some things best left buried deep in the memory.
“Was there anything else that might help us find her?” Milan asked his Slayer.
“Just one thing,” Jarmila said thoughtfully. “She wore her hair in a fringe but it was pushed over as we fought and I noticed a tattoo on her forehead.”
The atmosphere in the room changed suddenly. Those who had been in Sunnydale all looked at Jarmila with increased interest but it was Giles who asked her to describe the tattoo.
“Just black, no colour, I think. Lines across with something in the centre - like a sword pommel, or a ram’s head maybe, I did not see it very well,” said the Slayer slightly apologetically.
“The fucking Knights!” Spike burst out.
“It is a possibility,” Giles said slowly, “but I really thought that they no longer existed, and I cannot see them recruiting a young woman, even if she is a Slayer.
“Could you possibly draw the design as far as you can?” he asked Jarmila, passing her a pen and paper.
Spike moved to Dawn’s side and she was glad of his hand on her arm; she felt shaky and slightly sick. Ethan Rayne and organised criminals were bad enough, but if The Knights of Byzantium were involved with this other Slayer then surely she must also be out to harm Dawn. She felt that things had moved from ‘be afraid’ to ‘be very afraid’.
Willow was looking at her, as was Mhairi; Dawn thought her fear must be positively palpable, she felt like her fifteen year old self again. Then Spike said “Remember when we were in that Winnebago and those buggers were after us? Remember Anya knocking that guy out with the frying pan? She had a wonderful way with a pan did Anya!”
Suddenly Dawn wanted to smile – memories of Spike’s hands bleeding from grasping the sword through the roof, Giles impaled and the Winnebago overturning were driven away with the mental picture of Anya, wearing her ‘resolve face’, wielding her pan. Which, she realised, was just what Spike had intended.
Jarmila was concentrating on her drawing, eyes part closed and tongue held between her teeth as she tried to visualise the design on the other Slayer’s face, so briefly glimpsed. Milan was watching her with interest, and Dawn knew that by the time they would notice her again she would be back in control of her emotions. Gratefully she squeezed Spike’s hand, took a deep breath, and turned a calm face to look at the design now becoming clear on Jarmila’s paper.
As the design that Jarmila drew became clearer it was obvious to those who had seen it before that, no matter how unlikely, the Slayer who had defeated Jarmila was linked to the Knights of Byzantium.
Dawn pointed out that it was now even more important that she and Giles return to the Records Office as planned, as much of what she had copied into her note-book referred to men of honour in Constantinople as well as Brothers in Prague, and it had mentioned a ‘she’ who would ‘slay’. Whilst Dawn had presumed this to refer to Buffy, perhaps it didn’t and they really, really needed to go back and look at the documents again.
Giles agreed that this new finding did, indeed, make the trip to the Record Office a very high priority but there was still much discussion about which of the locator spells must now take precedence for Willow and Mhairi the next morning. By the time that the issue was resolved everyone needed their sleep.
……………………….
The Ferret uttered the phrase of Dismissal and the gangster’s shade faded into nothingness. “So,” the magician said, “my hypothesis was correct.”
“Apparently so,” Ethan agreed. “A Slayer. One who just came in and killed without hesitation or mercy. And used guns.” He shook his head. “That’s scary. They’re bad enough when they just have pointed sticks.”
“Or fresh fruit,” The Ferret added. “It is definitely time for us to run away.”
Ethan frowned. The Ferret had picked up on a fairly obscure Monty Python reference. That seemed out of character; previously he had seemed oblivious to such things. The precision of The Ferret’s English had slipped slightly on occasions, too, and Ethan began to wonder if his original theory, that The Ferret was a foreigner who was merely pretending to be English, was in error. Perhaps it was actually a double bluff and he was an Englishman pretending to be a foreigner pretending to be English.
Not that it mattered. “I’m all in favour of that, dear boy,” Ethan agreed. “Let us be off to Constantinople.”
“It’s Istanbul,” The Ferret corrected him, “not Constantinople.” He spoke without inflection, absolutely deadpan, and Ethan could not tell if this was coincidence or yet another instance of The Ferret revealing a knowledge of popular culture.
Ethan smiled. “That’s nobody’s business but the Turks.”
……………………….
Spike sat on a rather hard chair in the space between two of the tall narrow windows that provided the natural light to the reading room. Luckily it was a rather grey, damp day, and little sunlight was available for the task today.
Rupert had cleaned his glasses with vigour after his first glance at the first of the books which Dawn had requested from the librarian, and was now murmuring “Oh my goodness! Oh my dear girl! Yes – well this tells us a great deal.”
Spike took in a deep breath and savoured the smell of old books and manuscripts, which truth to tell he rather liked, although he would have admitted this to very few people. The rancid smell of a century’s sweating readers that accompanied it he thought that he could have done without. He decided that he might just sit and gaze at Dawn’s neck as she leant over a book, and possibly have a small bet with himself as to how many times Rupert would either clean his glasses, or say “Oh my goodness!” before they left the reading room.
“Spike,” Dawn’s voice broke into his reverie, “Could you just translate this bit while I go and see if I can find any more stuff that I might have missed the other day? You know you can read hand-written Latin better than me anyway.”
It said a lot for the growing understanding between Giles and Spike that Giles did not raise an eyebrow at that suggestion at all. This lack of reaction amused Spike even more than previous assumptions of his ignorance had done in the past but, as of old back in Sunnydale, he kept this amusement to himself and made a show of grumbling about Dawn being a bully – he was only here as the brawn.
Soon however he was deep in the history of the founding of the Order of Dagon.
“Fucking Hell, Watcher!” he suddenly blurted out, causing one or two heads to turn in his direction. “Listen to this – many lives of men after the fall of the city evil-doers will lay covetous and impious hands upon the Key. In that time shall the Sword of God, flesh of thy flesh, descend from on high and smite the evil-doers, and she shall slay them without mercy.
“I know that Dawn didn’t go into all the details when she spoke to you, but I would say that evil-doers sure as Hell laid covetous and impious hands on the Key the other night!”
At the look of horror on Giles’ face Spike hurried to clarify what he meant. “Only hands, mind, Rupert, nothing worse than that, but it would have been a sexual assault if it had been a court case.”
Giles wiped his glasses vigorously, and Spike had the distinct impression that were Ethan Rayne to walk into the room at that minute The Ripper would rip him limb from limb. ‘Good job he hasn’t,’ thought Spike, ‘Cos I want that pleasure for myself!’
……………………….
There had been some discussion about whether to tell Milan and Jarmila about The Key and its being Dawn. Dawn herself pointed out that even if Giles explained it all to them, right down to her being ‘cloned’ from Buffy, the chances were that ten minutes later they would have forgotten anyway.
Eventually Giles, Dawn and Spike agreed that they would answer any questions Milan and Jarmila asked with an explanation of what The Key could do, and that it had been magically embedded in Dawn by the Order of Dagon when Glory had threatened it – embedded with irreversible magic. If they ever asked.
When they returned to Milan’s office the witches locator spells were the main topic of conversation though.
“I can come up with an area of Prague where the Slayer is, but I can’t get close,” Willow explained, somewhat frustratedly. “There is something blocking our spell. I guess either our girl has some sort of talisman, or she’s somewhere with wards and protection spells on that are about the same as the ones I put onto our hotel rooms.
“But I am fairly sure that if she moves around the city she’ll show up on my map,” she finished, with a grin and a flourish of her hand towards a map pinned to Milan’s wall on which there was a patch of blue light.
Dawn had seen this spell on many occasions, and she could see what Willow meant about lack of accuracy – usually there would have been a tiny pin-point rather than something that was spread across five or six blocks. Still, if the patch began to move towards wherever Dawn was herself it would give a fairly good warning.
“Ethan Rayne took longer – but with Mhairi and I linked and using the book he had handled, along with my memories of him, we finally got a tag on him about half an hour ago – at the airport. Looks as if he’s moving on,” Willow continued.
“He’s not getting away that easily!” Spike snapped. “Can you hack into the computers and see where he’s flying to?”
“If he’s using his own name, then I’m pretty sure I could,” Willow answered, “but Milan has just gotten up the departures on screen, and I can tell when he starts to move very quickly – so we can get a pretty good idea which flight he’s on.”
“And wherever it is, I’ll be after the bastard,” Spike said, grimly.
Just at that moment Spike’s phone vibrated in the pocket of his coat, just where Dawn was leaning against him, making her giggle. Spike looked at the message, and a smile cracked across his face. “That’s my girl!” he said “Ilona wants me to ring her. ‘Scuse me.” He left the office space and headed into the nearest book stack.
Willow looked at Dawn and raised an eyebrow – awaiting Dawn’s reaction. Truth to tell, Dawn wasn’t a hundred percent happy about Spike’s friendship with Senora Costa Bianchi, but this wasn’t the time to say so, so she smiled back and said “I hope she’s got good news – we could do with a lucky break right now.”
Mhairi had been bustling around making tea, coffee and sandwiches, but she now interrupted the exchange between Dawn and Willow. “He’s moving!”
Sure enough, on the other map on the office wall, a small red dot had begun to accelerate along the line of one of the airport runways.
Milan said “There is one flight departing to Istanbul, and another to London. It could be either.”
“O…kaaay,” Willow said slowly. “Now we move from magic to technology! Give me coffee, and a keyboard, and I’ll look at the relevant passenger lists!”
……………………….
“Well I really think we are getting somewhere. Well done Willow, Spike,” Giles said, with a slight smile.
“Ethan is leaving Prague for Istanbul travelling in the company of a Mr. Graham Fairbanks, and Signora Costa Bianchi tells us that he is working with, or possibly for, a fellow mage known as The Ferret who is familiar to her as a purveyor of information. A reliable source of military and industrial secrets and any other secret information he can get his hands on that someone else might buy.”
He paused to take a few sips from his tea-cup that Mhairi had just re-filled, then continued “This Ferret could possibly have stumbled on my work on The Key, and of course Dawn’s as my assistant, and passed on information to some vestigial remnant of the Knights of Byzantium; or possibly he learnt of The Key from such a person or persons and is intent on selling the information on.
“I cannot see it being a co-incidence that we have Ethan and this Ferret/Fairbanks person going from Prague to Istanbul and a Slayer, bearing the insignia of an ancient Istanbul based order which was intent on destroying The Key, here in Prague.”
“Fair summing up,” said Spike, “but what are we going to do about it all? We hanging round here to try and find your Slayer who likes to say ‘Nee’; or heading off to Istanbul to rend Ethan sodding Rayne, and his mate the mustelid, limb from bloody limb?”
“Well firstly I think we should contact Andrew and get him or one of his staff to, um, ferret out what information they can on this, um, member of the family Mustelidae,” Giles said, causing almost everyone in the room except Spike to look somewhat confused.
Spike grinned. “Ferret – verb – to poke around looking for things; ferret – noun -member of a carnivorous group of small sleek animals called mustelids, or Mustelidae. Guess this might be where he got the name from, eh, Rupert?”
‘I bet Giles never thought of him and Spike swapping intellectual jokes back in Sunnydale,’ Dawn thought, smiling, as she watched Milan scribble down a note, probably of what Spike had just said, whilst both Willow and Mhairi looked as if they found the conversation amusing, and Jarmila looked as if she was getting bored standing around.
……………………….
The General switched off his mobile phone and slipped it back into his pocket. “They have taken off,” he informed his daughter and Minta. “Time for us to follow.”
“Our priority should be the Key,” Minta grumbled. “It must be destroyed.”
“I’m not going to take on another Slayer, a vampire, a Watcher and a couple of witches,” Anna declared. “I’m not a Predator. Even if I could beat them all it would attract far too much attention. I don’t want to be shot by the Czech police or end up going to jail for murder.”
“I agree with Anna,” the General stated. “We have gained much information here. We can strike against the Key on a future occasion. Our task for now must be to destroy these evil men who seek to use the Key for their profit. And their Turkish allies.”
Minta sighed. “Very well, General Konstantios. I shall obey.”
“Thank you.” The General turned to his daughter. “Have you finished packing?”
“Pretty much, dad,” Anna replied. “Just a few things left that can go into a flight bag. And I’ll have to ditch the spoke in the river.”
“Do so, then,” the General said. “Minta?”
“The same,” the Seer told him.
“Good. My own packing is complete. Oh, yes, Minta. That notebook that Anna found. Return it to me, please. I’ll take a look at it on the plane. It should while away the time fairly well.”
“I assure you that it contains nothing of value,” Minta said.
“I shall judge that for myself,” the General said.
“I have hours of music to listen to,” Anna said, “thanks to Dawn Summers.” She frowned. “That’s if they don’t take the phones off me at the airport. What are the current security regulations, anyway?”
The General shrugged. “Who knows? They are changeable, complicated, and operate more by the whim of officials than according to any logical basis. They could best be described, perhaps, as… Byzantine.”
……………………….
An hour later Jarmila looked a good deal more bored, or at least she looked as if she wanted to go out and kill something, possibly to prevent her killing someone in the room just to stop them arguing.
Giles wanted Dawn to go home to Watchers’ Council Headquarters where she would be safe.
Spike wanted to go to Istanbul, as soon as possible, to do as much damage as possible to Ethan Rayne and his companion who he would find somehow.
Willow and Mhairi wanted to go to Istanbul because, as both Ethan and The Ferret were magic users, their fire-power might well be required.
Giles was torn between the need for someone to help Milan and Jarmila monitor the unknown Slayer, going to Istanbul to be some sort of restraining influence on Spike in particular, and going back to England with Dawn.
Except that Dawn was determined to go to Istanbul.
She pointed out that as the rogue Slayer seemed to have both her phone and Spike’s, with contact details for Watchers’ Headquarters amongst other things, she might turn up there anyway; and she, Dawn, did not want to be responsible for Slayer fighting Slayer. She said that she trusted Spike, Willow and Mhairi to keep her safe in Istanbul, and she didn’t want to be treated as something fragile to be wrapped in cotton wool and hidden away.
Privately she thought Spike would be less likely to go off full tilt and get himself into something he couldn’t get himself out of if he had her right there to worry about, but thought it better not to say so out loud. Instead she insisted that, if this Slayer bore the ceremonial tattoos of the Knights of Byzantium, then more research needed to be done about them; and Istanbul was the place to do it.
Spike paced restlessly as if he was ready to start walking to Istanbul immediately. He vacillated between wanting Dawn to go home and live in a bomb shelter in the very middle of Watchers’ Headquarters – preferably with twenty armed Slayers around her at all times – and agreeing that she had the right to go to Istanbul, where he would keep her safe; bloody right he would.
In the end Dawn won her argument by pointing out that it might be a lot easier to find Ethan and his associate if she was there as bait. Even if they knew that was why she was there, not being stupid, she reckoned that they still wouldn’t be able to resist and Giles had to agree, knowing Ethan from of old, that she was quite right.
However, if Dawn was indeed going to Istanbul, then Giles would go as well. Flights would need to be organised, hotel rooms booked, and arrangements made for one or two of the Outreach Watchers to come to Prague to work with Milan and Jarmila in the search for the Byzantine Slayer.
It looked likely that it would be the next day before they could all make the trip. There were only two direct flights between Prague and Istanbul each day, and the second one was in only another three hours – too soon to get anyone else to come and help Milan and Jarmila monitor the rogue Slayer, even from Krakow where the nearest other official Slayer was based.
However the phone conversation between Giles and Andrew saw to it that not only would the full research capability of the Council be turned to finding out as much as possible about The Ferret, but someone would be at Istanbul airport to spot Ethan Rayne and Graham Fairbanks leaving the plane, and tail them in the city.
……………………….
The observer drew on a cigarette and allowed twin trails of smoke to issue from his nostrils. He glanced idly at the pair of soldiers who walked past. Their G-33 assault rifles were held at the port ready for instant action against any terrorist threat, and the tramp of their heavy boots reinforced their no-nonsense image, but the snatch of conversation that he caught showed that their minds were occupied with the forthcoming Galatasaray- Fenerbahçe derby.
It would still be advisable not to attract their attention, however, and the observer was glad that his visual memory was good enough that he would not need to refer to the photos of the subjects that had been sent to his mobile phone.
Ah. There they were. He watched them out of the corners of his eyes as he blew out another plume of smoke and feigned directing his attention at the people still emerging from the terminal building.
They did not go to the taxi rank. They were accompanied by a local, who had presumably met them inside the terminal, and he led the two Englishmen towards a car park.
The observer ostentatiously looked at his watch, sighed, tossed down his cigarette and walked off. Hopefully anyone who had taken notice of him would believe that he had been waiting for someone who had not arrived. He followed his targets at a distance until he saw them get into a car. A limousine, rather; apparently their Turkish contacts had wealth and power.
The observer turned and made for the bay in which he had parked his motorcycle. He had lost some ground to the car but his nippy little conveyance was able to slip through the traffic with ease. He dodged a dolmus that swerved towards him, the driver seemingly determined to disobey the exhortations on the traffic signs that read ‘Don’t be a traffic monster’, and spotted the limousine ahead. He slowed, allowing the dolmus to pass him again, and settled down to his task of tailing the Englishmen.
He followed them all the way to a street off Istiklal Cadesi. He noted where the car stopped but did not attempt to halt and follow them on foot. Everyone knew who controlled this street. Any attempt to make a closer investigation would be very hazardous for a lone Greek. It would be enough. The General would be satisfied.
The ’BtVS’ characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only and all rights remain with Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the writers of the original episodes, and the TV and production companies responsible for the original television shows. BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER ©2002 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All Rights Reserved. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer trademark is used without express permission from Fox.
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