Lindsey stared out of his office window thinking. How could he do it? How could he help the red head locked in a room as a “guest” of Wolfram and Hart? In the his soul he knew he had to do help her, that was not even in question. The trick would be to find a way to help her and not get killed. She’d asked him to get a message to her friends. Unfortunately her friends happened to be his enemies, or at least the firm’s enemies. He couldn’t call because his phone lines would be tapped and any messengers would be stopped.
“Lindsey,” a firm voice called from behind him.
Startled the young lawyer turned his chair around. “Holland.”
“How is our guest?” Holland Manners asked as he leaned against Lindsey’s desk.
“Fine. She wasn’t too happy with her accommodations, but she’s still alive.” He watched as the older man turned his appointment calendar around to peruse the lists.
Holland studied the young man’s very busy day. “That’s good to know because you were in there for quite a while.” He looked up at Lindsey’s steady gaze. “Don’t get too attached to her, Lindsey.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Oh, she did request cigarettes.”
He wrinkled his nose at the thought. “Disgusting habit, but I don’t see why not. Have to keep our guest happy, right?” He stood and straightened his jacket. “See to it, Lindsey.”
“Of course, Holland,” he answered. *It just might work,* he thought.
****
Lindsey pulled into the convenience store parking lot. He made a quick survey of the neighborhood. While he didn’t see anyone following him, the lawyer knew Holland trusted no one. He climbed out of his BMW and pressed the alarm button on his key-chain remote. He stepped up to the counter. “Can I get a carton of...uhm...those there,” he said pointing to a gold and white box.
The clerk turned and pulled the carton from the pile. “Anything else?” he asked. At the shake of Lindsey’s head, he rang up the total. “That will be $44.87.”
Removing his wallet from his back pocket, he pulled a few bills out of it.
The clerk took the payment and stared down at the envelope in his hands. Across the front of the paper was scrawled the word: Angel. He looked curiously at the well-dressed man.
“Can I get some matches too?” Lindsey asked. “My friend needs them.” He looked pointedly at the envelope.
“Sure,” the clerk replied and set a book of matches on top of the cigarette carton. He handed over the change and slid the envelope under the cash register.
“Great, thanks,” Lindsey said with a nod of his head. *Well, that was
easy enough. Now let’s hope it works,* he thought as he breathed a sigh
of relief.
****
Spike entered the convenience store with his thoughts preoccupied by a certain red head. He was frustrated and wanted answers. He’d thought of speaking to Angel, but something held him back. Both he and Dr. Peil knew the woman walking around with Willow’s face wasn’t the real Willow.
“Hey, Spike,” the clerk greeted from behind the counter.
“Tony,” Spike answered. “The usual.”
Tony set a carton of smokes on the counter and rang them up. “$44.87,” he said.
Spike handed him some bills and waited for his change. Tony set the change in his hand with a folded envelope. Curiously, he opened the envelope. *Angel?* he thought. He glanced at Tony. “What’s this?”
“Don’t know. Some guy came in earlier and left it. I figured you could get it to Angel, right?”
“Yeah, sure.” He pocketed the money and tucked the carton under his
arm. Once he stepped outside the store he opened the envelope. It wasn’t
like it was real mail or anything, not that it would matter to Spike. He
read through the note inside and took off towards home.
****
Cordelia sat at her desk reviewing some case files when Spike burst through the door. “Where’s the fire?” she asked.
“Where’s Angel?”
“In his office,” she replied.
The blonde vampire hurried into the back office. He paused when he found Willow sitting across the desk from Angel.
“Hey, Spike,” Angel greeted.
“Angel,” he nodded. He turned his attention to the red head. “Willow, can you excuse us for a minute? I need to talk to Angel.”
Her brows furrowed in concern, but she stood. “Okay.”
Spike waited for her to leave the room. When the door closed behind her, he tossed the note on the desk.
“Spike, what’s going on?” Angel asked. He’d never seen the man so curt with Willow before.
“Read,” Spike ordered.
The dark vampire picked up the note and read through it. “Angel, I know you won’t believe me, but Wolfram and Hart have Willow Rosenberg locked up in the sub-basement. She is protected by a Progothian demon so I know the senior partners are trying to keep her from you. I’ve talked to her and she asked me to get a message to you. While we have our differences, something about Willow makes me want to help her. Lindsey McDonald.”
Angel put the note aside. “You don’t believe this do you? Wolfram and Hart would do anything to get to me. And that includes lying.”
Spike placed his hands on the desk and leaned over it. “That woman is not Willow. I know it. Even Dr. Peil knows it.”
“Then who is she?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. I want my Willow back!” he growled.
Angel sat back and tried to think. “Where did you get the note?” he asked.
“Tony down at the Seven-11 said a guy came in, bought a carton of smokes and left this note for you.”
“Lindsey doesn’t smoke to my knowledge.”
“They were probably for Willow.” Spike threw himself into the chair and rubbed his temples that were beginning to throb. “She smokes like a chimney,” he chuckled.
“Do you think he’ll be back?” Angel asked.
“Who?”
“Lindsey. Think he’ll go back to Tony’s store?”
“Seems to me there are more convenient places to pick up smokes than half way across town,” Spike replied.
Angel nodded and pulled out a pad of paper and scrawled out a note. He ripped the sheet off and stuffed it into an envelope. “Let’s take this to Tony and see if it’s picked up.”
Spike snatched the pad off the desk and wrote out a few lines of his own. He folded the paper and handed it to Angel.
The dark vampire hesitated for a moment before adding it to the envelope. “Let’s go.”