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Carpe Noctem Book Three
Never the Twain Chapter Seven
by Lianne Burwell
October 2001
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Everyone involved in the hunt was well aware of the countdown 
over the next few days. The murders had happened at intervals of 
six to nine days. If they didn't find the killer in time, another 
mutilated body was going to turn up in a downtown alleyway. None 
of them wanted to see happen, so they were working at a furious 
rate guaranteed to attract attention, sooner or later. On the 
fourth night of their investigation it did.

This was because the Agency wasn't the only organization 
investigating. The police were working were just as intently and 
just as aware of the fast approaching deadline. It was foolish to 
think that they wouldn't notice two men asking questions about 
the victims, or that they wouldn't be able to find out who they 
were.

That was why when Vic and Mac came out of the Toronto Ceramic 
Arts co-op they found a man leaning against the side of Vic's 
car. Mac didn't need to see the man's badge to know what he was: 
his posture just screamed "Cop!"

Vic came to a very casual stop and stuck his hands in his 
pockets. Mac followed his lead.

"Can we help you?" Vic asked in a voice that showed only mild 
curiosity. Mac knew him better, though. Vic was practically 
glowing with tension.

The man pushed away from the car with a glare. Mac wasn't 
impressed. The guy was five inches shorter than himself, but 
probably fifty pounds heavier, and not with muscle. He was 
wearing a dark suit made of fine materials and looked to be 
tailored specially for him, but it was far too heavy for the 
current heat wave. His face glistened in the light from the 
street lamps.

"Victor Mansfield," the man said, his voice dripping with 
disdain. Vic didn't show any reaction, but Mac bristled on his 
behalf.

"Well, you obviously know who I am, but I can't say the same," 
Vic said.

"McKenzie. Homicide. And yes, I know all about you. A cop gone 
bad."

"A cop framed, then cleared," Mac corrected him. The man's eyes 
flickered to him, then seemed to dismiss him.

"McDowell was a friend of mine," the man said. "A *good* friend."

That got a reaction from Vic. "Speaking of dirty cops," he spat.

Mac took a moment before he remembered that Joe McDowell was 
Vic's old team lead from when he was a Narc. The man had framed 
him, sent him to jail, then tried to kill him years later 
thinking that he was the leak exposing corruption in the police 
force. The man was now serving time in a maximum security prison 
up near Kingston.

The cop growled and took a step forward, his hand twitching 
towards the bulge that Mac assumed was a gun.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Mac said, dropping into a 
ready stance. He stayed calm, but was ready to break the man's 
arm if he went for his weapon.

Luckily, McKenzie wasn't a complete fool. This time he took a 
longer look at Mac, and obviously recognized that he was a pro. 
He held his hands out from his sides. "We got a problem, boy?" he 
asked sarcastically.

"I don't know. You tell me," Mac said, but he didn't relax.

They stared at each other, stalemated. Mac was ready to stay like 
that all night, but Vic coughed discreetly.

"Is there a point to this?" he asked when he had their attention. 
"'Cause if not, how about getting out of the way."

McKenzie's nostrils flared in an expression that might have been 
intimidating if it weren't for the beads of sweat running down 
the sides of his face to drop from his jowls. "You've been poking 
your nose where it doesn't belong. This is a police investigation 
and you're not a cop anymore, so you better stay out of it."

"Can't do that," Vic said. "Hamilton isn't happy with the police 
progress, so he hired us to find his daughter's killer."

"That's *our* job," McKenzie said stiffly.

"And you're doing it so well, aren't you?" Mac sneered. "Not only 
haven't you caught the killer, there's been four more deaths 
since then. If *you* aren't going to stop him, I guess we'll have 
to."

"Mac..." Vic's hiss sound irritated, so he decided to take the 
implied suggestion. He straightened up very deliberately, tugging 
his clothing back into place. The impression he was projecting 
was of perfectly casual ease, but he was keeping a very close eye 
on the cop. If McKenzie even *looked* like he was going to make a 
hostile move, Mac would have him on the ground, writhing in pain, 
before he even knew what hit him.

Vic turned back to McKenzie. "Seems we're at an impasse," he said 
mildly. "You don't what us investigating, but that's what we've 
been paid to do. So unless you've got something else to say..."

"You better believe I do," McKenzie snarled, stepping forward. 
Mac immediately stepped between them. The overweight cop stopped 
and glared at him for a moment before looking over his shoulder 
at Vic. "You and your pretty boy better watch yourselves. If 
there's even a *hint* that you're interfering in this 
investigation, you're going to find yourself back behind bars and 
playing bitch for any con who wants your pasty white ass."

Then he smiled. "And I can name a few people there who would 
*love* to have a shot at you. Watch your back, Mansfield. I'll be 
keeping an eye on you. *Both* of you."

"Awfully interested in your ass, isn't he?" Mac said loudly as 
the man walked away. "Maybe he wants to kiss it. He probably has 
a lot of practice."

Vic shushed him. McKenzie stiffened for a moment, then kept on 
walking. Mac managed to resist the urge to stick out his tongue 
at the man's back. Barely.

Once the man was out of sight, Mac turned to find Vic looking at 
him with an exasperated expression. "What?" he protested.

"The idea was *not* to annoy the cops, remember?" Vic pointed 
out.

Mac shrugged, but he blushed a little. "What can I say? He 
annoyed me first."

Vic's expression softened. "He was an arrogant jerk, wasn't he?"

Mac snorted. "That doesn't even *begin* to describe him," he 
said. "I mean, what a cliché. Where do they find these guys 
anyway?"

Vic looked off to the side. They could both hear the squeal of 
tires as the cop pulled out of the parking a lot faster than was 
really safe. "I don't know," he said sadly. His eyes had the 
distant look of someone seeing the past, not the present.

"Well, it looks like they didn't find all the bad apples, so we 
better be a little more careful."

That got a bitter laugh out of his partner. "Maybe you should 
have thought of that before you decided to jerk his chain."

"Uh, right." Mac stared at his shoes, which had suddenly become 
very fascinating. "Sorry about that." He was, too. Everyone said 
that he acted without thinking. He hated it, but sometimes they 
were right. Now was one of those times.

Mac's tone seemed to break through Vic's funk. He shook his head. 
"Don't worry about it. McKenzie was spoiling for a fight, and 
he'd have kept pushing buttons until he got one."

"You know him?" Mac asked, curious in spite of himself.

"Nah, but I know the type. Homicide cops always acted like they 
were superior to everyone else. Thankfully I didn't have to deal 
with them much." He paused and looked thoughtful. "You know, it 
might be an idea to run a check on him. If he's going to be 
trouble, we should get as much dirt on him as possible."

"And if he was a friend of McDowell's, there should be plenty," 
Mac said, grinning broadly. He wanted to see McKenzie taken down 
a peg or two. Better yet, he wanted to be the one to do it.

"So, what next?" he asked, changing the subject slightly.

Vic blew a gust of air like a deflating tire. "I haven't a clue," 
he finally admitted. "We've gone through all of the victim's 
homes, talked to their friends, followed every lead that 
presented itself, and we've hit a wall. I'm stumped."

>>>~~~<<<

Jackie was about ready to scream with frustration as she left yet 
another club after coming up blank yet again. After nearly a week 
of hunting, she hadn't gotten anywhere. She'd been to just about 
every dance club and bar in town without any luck. Not only 
hadn't she found LiAnn, the mysterious Sanji had also vanished 
into thin air.

After their first two meetings, she'd expected him to just appear 
out of the woodwork, ready to make another move on her. After 
all, that's what he'd done the first two times. But there hadn't 
been any sign of him, and when she'd started asking bartenders 
about him as well, he'd turned out to be just as elusive as 
LiAnn.

And as for LiAnn, there'd been no more cryptic messages or 
exploding phones. The next day, she'd replaced the phone, then 
gone into the headquarters on a whim to check the security tapes.

Every Agency-owned apartment came with a seemingly endless supply 
of hidden cameras and microphones. They all knew it, or found out 
quickly. The official reason given if you complained was that it 
was for their own protection. Every agent managed to make enemies 
or become a target at some point in their career. Look at how 
many times Vic had been tracked down, usually by someone who 
wanted him dead or in bed.

However, among the agents the favorite theory was that the 
Director was a voyeur; not hard to believe of a woman who was one 
of the founders of a kinky sex club.

Whatever the reason, what was important was that the apartments 
were all under twenty-four hour monitoring, complete with video 
that was kept for a week before being overwritten. What she 
wanted to know was if LiAnn's message had been caught on *those* 
tapes.

Any hopes she'd had of that were dashed when she arrived at the 
Agency just after dark and found the security staff in an uproar. 
There'd been an explosion in the monitoring room the previous 
night. No one had been hurt, thankfully, but all of the equipment 
had been destroyed, as well as several days worth of tapes and 
their backups.

Sabotaging a phone was one thing, but getting into the Agency 
headquarters and blowing up a room in the heart of the security 
department was definitely something else altogether. Suddenly, 
every hair on her body was standing on end, and she couldn't get 
out of there fast enough. She hadn't been back since. Phone 
messages had gone unanswered as her hunt became more and more 
urgent. Sooner or later, she was going to have to explain 
herself, but not yet.

The countdown was on, but it was becoming personal. LiAnn was out 
there, and she was up to something. Sanji was also out there, and 
who knew what *he* was up to. Well, she was going to find out.

Assuming she could find either of them.

She took a deep breath of the humid night air, stifling in its 
stillness, then turned and headed for the next place on her list.

>>>~~~<<<

Forced to face the fact that they didn't have any leads left, Vic 
and Mac headed back to the Agency. Vic was hoping that Careena or 
Nathan had found something to help them, but he wasn't holding 
his breath. It was beginning to looked as if they were going to 
have to wait until there was another death, then strike while the 
trail was actually hot.

He hated that idea.

At two in the morning, the place was nearly empty. Coming off the 
elevator in the Records department, Vic called out "Hello?"

The sound echoed through the space. Other than a room with a 
large table and a couple offices along one wall, the level was a 
single large room broken only by row after row of library type 
shelving. Dim lighting hid the ceiling, leaving the feeling that 
it was far over head.

The one time that Vic had tried to find something on his own, 
he'd discovered that there was no apparent order or labeling of 
material. Since then, he'd let Nathan and his staff find him what 
he wanted, although he had no idea how they managed to do it.

"What a coincidence," Careena said, emerging silently from behind 
a set of shelves. "I was just about to call you, Vic." Mac, she 
ignored.

Vic felt a surge of hope. "Tell me you've got something for us," 
he pleased.

"Oh, I've got plenty for you. All you have to do is ask," she 
said coyly. Behind him, he could hear Mac growling softly. He 
might have convinced Mac that he wasn't going to run out on him, 
but it didn't stop the younger man from acting jealous. At least 
he *thought* it was an act.

"Down boy," Careena told Mac before turning her attention back to 
Vic.

Vic rolled his eyes at their antics. "Do you have anything 
related to the case?" he clarified

"As a matter of fact, I do, and it's going to blow your mind." 
She swept past, heading for the conference room. She didn't look 
back to make sure they were following.

"The police reports on the victims from the various cities said 
that some of their homes and studios had been searched," she said 
once they were sitting down. Her lecturing posture was 
disturbingly reminiscent of the Director. "At the time, nothing 
seemed to be missing. Well, that might not be exactly true."

"Is this going somewhere?" Mac asked, impatient as always.

Careena glared at him, not that Mac seemed to care. "Turns out 
that Kyle Macklin, one of the first victims in Victoria, was 
working on a sculpture just before his death. The wax model 
turned up at a friend's studio, where he was getting ready to 
make the mold for a bronze."

She picked up a control and pressed a button. The lights went out 
and an image was projected against the one clean, white wall.

It was hard to tell from the image how tall it was, but a helpful 
legend said it was two feet. It depicted a young woman in a 
seated position. She was nude, but her bent legs and the arms 
wrapped around her breasts made it discrete. Her face was turned 
upwards, her shoulder-length hair falling back.

It was difficult to be sure, considering the size of the wax 
figure and the angle of the camera, but the resemblance was 
obvious.

"LiAnn," Vic said softly.

"That's what I thought, so I did some checking," Careena said. "I 
couldn't get anything definite, but there's a rumor going around 
that LiAnn hasn't been heard from since she got to China, but 
that the higher-ups are keeping it quiet."

"You got a copy of that picture?"

In answer, the blonde researcher pushed several eight by ten 
black and white photos showing the figure from different angles 
across the table. Vic took them as he stoop up, carefully keeping 
himself under control. "C'mon, Mac."

He headed out the door, striding towards the elevator. He could 
hear Mac trotting to catch up with him, but didn't slow down.

"Where are we going?" Mac asked as he came up beside him.

"To find the Director. This," he shook the photo, "combined with 
Hamilton's portrait is too much coincidence. It's time we found 
out where LiAnn is."

>>>~~~<<<

The conference room on the main level was empty. Vic slapped the 
photos down on the long table, then started pacing. When the 
Director didn't appear in short order, he headed for the stairs 
to her private rooms.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you, Sport."

Vic spun to find Dobrinsky at the main entrance, casually leaning 
against the doorframe. "We need to talk to the Director," he 
said.

"She's busy right now. Come back later."

Vic's jaw clenched, along with his stomach. "What the hell is 
going on, Dobrinsky? Why is she avoiding us?"

Dobrinsky shrugged, a bland smile on his face. "Why would she be 
avoiding you?"

"You tell me," Vic said through clenched teeth. The Director 
might like to play mind-games, but this was more than that. "Why 
haven't we seen her since the night Cash was here?"

"Did you ever think that she has more important things on her 
mind?"

"More important that a serial killer loose in *her* town?" Vic 
asked in disbelief. Dobrinsky just looked back at him.

Vic shivered suddenly. If there *was* something more important, 
and not just the Director jerking their chains for her own 
reasons, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Once he was sure that he 
wasn't going to blow up, he opened his eyes again. "Okay. Fine. 
If the Director isn't available, can you answer some questions 
instead, then?"

Dobrinsky finally moved into the room and sat down at the table 
in the Director's usual seat and folded his hands in front of 
him. "Shoot," he said.

Vic gave Mac a warning glance before he could say something 
clichéd and stupid. He knew Mac well. "You know about the 
portrait we found in Corinne Hamilton's apartment," he said. 
Dobrinsky nodded, but stayed silent.

"At the time," Vic said, sitting down as well, "we thought that 
we might be dealing with a shape-shifter that was disguising 
itself as LiAnn, especially considering what Cash told us."

"And your point would be?" Dobrinsky asked.

Vic pushed the photos towards Dobrinsky. The man picked them up 
and studied them with a slight frown. Vic had a flash of déjà vu, 
remembering the same expression on the Director's face when she'd 
examined the portrait. "And?" the man said.

"That is the work of one of the first victims we've traced so 
far. In Victoria." Dobrinsky expression gave away nothing, but 
Vic had the feeling that the man knew exactly what he was getting 
at. Dobrinsky could be a sadist at times, but he was no fool.

"A shape-shifter pretending to be LiAnn makes sense in Toronto," 
he said, since Dobrinsky obviously wanted him to spell it out. 
"But why in Victoria? There's no reason. So. I want to know. 
Where. Is. LiAnn?"

Dobrinsky sat silent, considering the picture. The only sign of 
disquiet was the fingers of one hand drumming against the table 
top. That small movement spoke volumes for the man, and Vic 
didn't like what it was saying.

Finally, Dobrinsky pushed the pile of photos away in a decisive 
gesture. "We don't know," he said simply.

Those three words echoed in the room. Vic's jaw clenched. But 
before he could explode, Mac did it for him.

"You don't *know*?" Mac moved forward, his normally brash manner 
gone, leaving a pure predator in its place. An angry predator. 
"What the fuck do you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean, we don't know," Dobrinsky said, standing up. The fact 
that he was shorter than Mac didn't stop him from towering over 
the younger man.  His eyes were flashing a warning, but Mac 
wasn't listening, so Vic grabbed his arm to restrain him.

"What *do* you know, then?" he asked, trying to keep his voice 
calm. One of them was going to have to be the voice of reason, 
and it looked like he'd been nominated, even though he wanted to 
rage at the senior agent himself.

Dobrinsky moved around the table to face them and leaned back 
against the polished surface. He folded his arms over his chest 
and seemed to be considering how much to tell them. "She called 
after she arrived in Beijing and again when she reached her 
family's village," he said. "That's the last we heard from her. 
She was *supposed* to contact us every week."

"You haven't heard from her in more than five months, but you 
never bothered to tell *us*?" Mac's voice was dangerously calm 
and his eyes were molten silver. Vic knew the warning signs when 
he saw them and hung on tighter. "What are you doing about it?"

"There's nothing we can do," Dobrinsky shot back. "We have no way 
of operating in Asia. Until she contacts us, our hands are tied." 
To his credit, he sounded as frustrated about it as Vic felt.

"The only thing is," Vic said, nodding to the photos, "she might 
not *be* in Asia anymore. She might be right here in Toronto."

"Then maybe you should be out finding her, not arguing with me," 
Dobrinsky said.

Mac growled, but Vic dragged him from the room before he could do 
something really foolish that might get him killed.

As soon as they were out in the hallway, Mac pulled out of his 
grip. "I don't believe this," he muttered to himself as he 
started pacing back and forth fast enough to make a human dizzy. 
"I don't fucking believe this."

Suddenly he stopped, just long enough to punch his fist into one 
of the concrete walls. Then he went back to pacing.

Vic winced in sympathy, even though Mac didn't even seem to 
notice the pain he must be in. Kindred strength and Kindred 
healing didn't stop something like that from hurting like hell, 
but Mac was too lost in his anger to even notice that he was 
bleeding and had probably broken bones as well.

"Mac..." Vic started to say, then broke off when his partner spun 
around.

"Don't!" Mac vibrated in place. "Just... don't. I know you loved 
her, but she was my sister for five *years* before we became 
lovers. And now *he*," he gestured towards the doors to the 
meeting room, "says that she's been missing for nearly half a 
year and that there's nothing they can do? They should have 
*told* me!"

"And what would you have done?" Vic asked "Gotten on a plane to 
China?" Of course, it was what *he* would have done, cryptic 
warnings aside, but he was still trying to play the voice of 
reason. Besides, he didn't have a price on his head in China. Mac 
did.

In a way, trying to deal with Mac's anger was helping keep 
control of his own. He might not have known LiAnn as long as Mac, 
but he still loved her. Perhaps not in the marrying way he had 
once -- he'd long since realized that they made better friends 
and partners than lovers -- but the old feelings were still 
there. And of course there was basic loyalty. He was just as 
angry that they'd been left out of the loop, even if they still 
wouldn't have been able to do anything.

Mac stopped suddenly in the middle of the empty hall. "I have to 
get out of here," he announced to the air in general, sounding a 
little desperate.

"Mac?"

Mac shook his head. "I just... I need to get away from this." He 
started to back away.

Vic was getting worried now. Hell, he was more than worried. He'd 
promised Mac that he wasn't going to leave him, but he now 
realized that Mac had never promised him the same.

He must have made some sort of sound, since Mac suddenly stopped 
his retreat. He moved in quickly to kiss Vic hard, then stepped 
away again. "Just give me a few hours alone, to get my head 
screwed on right," he said, sounding slightly calmer, less wild, 
although his eyes still glowed silver. "If I can't make it home 
before dawn, I'll call. I promise. Okay?"

Mollified slightly by the promise, Vic nodded, although still a 
little reluctant to let Mac out of his sight. He was worried that 
the younger man would do something stupid.

Mac blew him another kiss, then turned and ran.

Vic slumped back against the concrete wall with a sigh, staring 
at the bloody smear left by Mac's punch. Part of him wanted to 
chase after Mac. Part of him wanted to start hunting for LiAnn, 
find out if she was in town, what had happened to her and why she 
hadn't contacted them. But the largest part of him wanted to got 
out a find a fight. The Beast demanded it.

But he wasn't the Beast. He controlled the Beast, not the other 
away around, he told himself over and over again.

So, instead he straightened up and headed down the hall in the 
opposite direction from the way Mac had gone, heading back down 
to records to start the search for anything that might be related 
to LiAnn. As he went, he pulled his cellphone from his pocket and 
punched in Jackie's number so that he could bring her up to date.

At least they had a new line of investigation.

END CHAPTER SEVEN