Chapter 8 - As usual, all familiar characters belong to someone else. I just take them out for a spin every now and then.
***
Claudia had taken over surveillance of the main gates. "This is really boring, Syd." she muttered. "Is it always like this?"
Sydney did not answer. She was turning an envelope over and over in her hands with a fixed expression on her face. She recognised the writing and had guessed what the envelope contained but, perversely, she did not want to open it. Right now she could pretend that Nigel was simply working on his own project. She could almost pretend that he would call any second, voice brimming with enthusiasm, and ask her to meet him so that they could finish the adventure together. But if she opened the letter, actually read the words "resigning my post" that fragile illusion would be shattered.
Suddenly, the gates to the Trevaylen mansion opened, Sydney and Claudia both straightened in their seats. Mere seconds passed before a top of the range Mercedes swept through and disappeared down the wooded road.
Sydney stuffed the envelope out of sight and turned the ignition of her own car setting off in pursuit.
"Was that Nigel?" asked Claudia, tightening her seatbelt.
"Yes." Sydney was relieved that Nigel was unharmed as far as she could tell from that split-second glance, but she had also recognised the driver. "Be careful, Nigel." she whispered quietly.
"Good. So we catch up. You two make up. We find this stone or whatever, and we go home. Right?"
"Right." agreed Sydney. Bark cinders spat from beneath the tyres as Sydney negotiated a particularly tight bend.
Claudia braced her feet against the floor of the car, dug her shoulders into the car seat and reached for the jacket holder above the window. "That's a relief," she muttered breathlessly, "for a second there, I thought you were thinking about taking some needless risk..." Claudia's voice became more high-pitched as they approached another Z-bend. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Sydney guided the car out of the turn and spared a glance at her terrified passenger. "Who me? Never!" She stamped on the accelerator.
***
"Two for London, Heathrow."
Nigel looked around the airport with a jaundiced eye as Frakes bought the tickets for the next stage of their journey. He could admit that, in all honesty, he'd never been so unsure in his life. Angry, yes. Terrified, undoubtedly. But never so... lost. He snorted to himself. Here he was, probably about to make the discovery of the millennium and it was all going wrong. He did not trust Frakes. His story was too glib, too convenient. He'd seen enough con-artists to know when he was being taken for a ride, but for now Nigel had little choice other than go with his new 'ally'. He could almost imagine Sydney's voice telling him to be careful. It was one piece of advice he had every intention of following.
***
"There they are." Claudia pointed enthusiastically.
Sydney sighed and quickly grabbed Claudia's arm, pushing it down. "And we don't want them to see us, so no drawing attention to ourselves."
"Sorry." Claudia muttered. She glanced towards Sydney. "Syd...?"
"Mmn?" Sydney was scanning the concourse looking for trouble. Wherever Benjamin Troy was, grief was sure to be along for the ride. She had picked out two possible accomplices and one definite, before Claudia's question registered. "What did you say?"
Irritation crossed Claudia's face. "I said," she repeated slowly and deliberately, "How do we know where they are going?"
Sydney looked back to the booth Nigel and Troy had just left. "Well, they're flying with 'British Airways', there's only one place they could be going..." her voice trailed off as she saw the board above the cashier's head; flights to Dusseldorf, Barcelona, Naples, London. "Oops."
"Oops? What's 'Oops'?"
"A miscalculation." Sydney watched the man she was sure was with Troy. He did not seem to be in any hurry to get on a plane.
"Right then." Claudia stood up straight. "We don't have time for any 'miscalculations'." She marched off towards the ticket stand.
"Claudia!" Sydney hissed, but the secretary ignored her. Sydney took a step forwards, then thought better of it. She had recognised Troy, she was fairly sure she recognised one of the not so random passengers, it was possible that they would recognise her. Sydney clenched her fists in frustration.
***
Claudia swallowed her nervousness and strode past the queue of people. At the head of the queue was a very large, very irate man sporting a garish football top. Claudia's step did not falter, although she balked inside about what she was about to do. She straightened her spine and shouldered her way in front of the supporter.
"Oi!" the man was understandably indignant, but Claudia was expecting, counting on that. She whirled pulling her wallet from her pocket and thrusting it close to his face. "Interpol!" she hissed, "If you don't want to spend the next day in a prison cell, I suggest you back off. Now!"
Hurriedly the supporter stepped back, straight onto the foot of the man behind him. The elderly gentleman cried out and bent over to push away the supporter's leg. In doing so he bumped against the woman behind him. She turned quickly and the oversized golf bag she was carrying across one shoulder jarred the supporter as he went to help the man he had trodden on.
In the confusion of the yelps of pain and the stuttered apologies Claudia turned to the BA representative, snapping shut her wallet. "Two men, Caucasian, one approximately six foot, 210 pounds, blonde hair, green eyes. The other, slightly shorter, brown eyes, wavy brown hair. They were here. Which flight are they booked on?" Claudia settled an uncompromising glare on the assistant.
The assistant tore his gaze away from the unfolding pantomime behind Claudia, wincing in reflexive sympathy as the head of a golf club swiped across the supporter's belly and the man doubled up.
"Heathrow." he said dazedly.
Claudia gave him a brilliant if unnoticed smile. "Thank you very much." she trilled. She spun on her heel and picked her way through the gawping passengers.
***
"They're going to London." said Claudia triumphantly as she returned to Sydney.
"Really." said Sydney, still gaping at the devastation Claudia had left behind. She glanced at Claudia's flushed face. "I'm impressed. Now, let's get our own flights," Sydney took Claudia's arm and spared a glance over her shoulder to where some order was being restored to the British Airways desk, "from a different airline, I think."
"Oh, I don't know. Interpol contacts might get us a discount."
"Don't push it." growled Sydney. "Always remember, a successful con is knowing when to quit."
"Right."
***
"So, Mr Bailey." Troy took a sip from his glass of complementary champagne. "Where to next?"
Nigel dragged his nose away from his notes and tiredly pushed his glasses back to the top of his head. "The War Department." he said shortly. "I need confirmation on a few points."
Troy's curiosity was burning, but he did not want to appear too eager for information. He had to let Bailey believe that he was still in control, so instead Troy chose to concentrate on the 'how' rather than the 'what'. "Do you think the British Civil Service will let you waltz in to their offices and demand information?"
"One of them will. At least she will for me, I don't know about you."
"Very well, Mr Bailey. I'll wait for you. I trust you." said Troy with a wide smile.
Nigel nodded and returned to his notes trying to dislodge the picture of a crocodile which had suddenly popped into his mind.
***
Heathrow was even busier than Charles de Gaul, if that was possible. But at last Syd and Claudia had had a piece of overdue luck. Nigel's flight had been delayed allowing Syd and Claudia the chance to pick the best spots from which to find Nigel amongst the disembarking passengers. Sydney sat in one of the waiting areas, peering out at the two main exits, the car rental desk and the baggage claim from beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Not much of a disguise, but it was the best she could do on such short notice.
Sydney felt a vibration from her mobile phone and flicked it open. "Do you see them, Claudia?"
"Not yet. But look who else is here."
Sydney looked up to where Claudia was standing on the next level. Claudia nodded her head and jerked it to the opposite side of the concourse. Sydney followed her nod; nothing there, up to the top level, Ah...
The top floor of the concourse was glassed in - the lounge for the executives and VIP passengers. The fine curtains had been pulled aside at one point and an old man, leaning on a cane stood looking down, apparently scanning the concourse below with the same avidity as herself and Claudia.
"Elliot Trevaylen." Sydney muttered. "What's he doing here?"
Sydney's thoughts were interrupted by an excited squawk from her mobile.
"I can see them, Syd. They're getting their bags."
"Okay, Claudia. Get down here and be ready to go."
"On my way." Sydney closed the phone and gathered her bag, watching as Nigel and Troy made their way to the exit. She was about to stand when she saw Troy and Nigel shake hands then Nigel left and joined the taxi-rank outside. Sydney was surprised. Surely Troy would not let Nigel out of his sight?
Troy glanced up towards the top lounge and smiled. Then he turned and gestured with his hand. For a terrible moment Sydney thought he was waving at her but then Troy was joined by the same man Sydney had recognised in Paris. She wished she could remember his name, Marcel or Marceaux, or something. The two men spoke for a moment then the mime artist joined the taxi queue and Troy headed for the executive lounge.
"Okay, I'm here. What d'we do?" Claudia was slightly out of breath from running.
Sydney was torn. She did not want to leave Nigel with that brute on his tail, but neither could they afford to lose track of Troy. She had only a few seconds in which to make up her mind. She took a deep breath, crossed her fingers and prayed she was making the right decision.
"Claudia, stay here. Troy's gone up to see Trevaylen. Don't lose him. If you can, find out where he and Nigel are going next. Somehow, I doubt that the Discoveror is hidden in Heathrow Airport. But don't let him see you, okay?"
Claudia nodded faintly. "What about you?"
"I'm going to follow Nigel." Sydney gave Claudia's hand a small squeeze. "Be careful."
"You too." But Sydney was already gone. Claudia sighed and looked up to the executive lounge. The curtains were back in place and Claudia could see nothing. She sighed again and went to look for the exit to the lounge so that she would not miss Troy when he came out.
***
Nigel settled back into the wide seats of the London taxi with a deep sigh of relief. He was very surprised that Frakes had not insisted on accompanying him, but Frakes himself had seemed a bit distracted and Nigel was not about to argue when he suggested staying behind in the airport.
It was with a lighter heart that Nigel looked out at the sights. He did not miss London particularly, but he did miss the cabs, the space to spread out and feel as if you were being chauffeured in your very own limousine. London taxi drivers, on the other hand, were almost always guaranteed to spoil it.
"Look at that will ya?" The driver shook his fist as they passed by a motorist who had been parked on double yellow lines and stopped by a traffic warden. The warden had his book out and was writing solidly despite the protestations of the motorist. "Bloody traffic wardens. Little Hitlers every one of them!"
Nigel cringed in his seat, the age-old taxi debate coming up on him; Stay quiet? or argue back? With relief Nigel saw that they were approaching the Houses of Parliament, they would soon be at his destination.
"And they're not the worst of them! Oh no! Clampers! Ever had your car clamped? Two hundred and eighty quid to get them to take that flamin' clamp off your car. Somebody, somewhere is making a bloody fortune!"
Nigel grunted noncommittally and stared out of the window, hoping the driver would take the hint. He was not that lucky.
"My brother-in-law, now he used to work for the council. He says they had more problems with cowboy clamping operations than flamin' vandals. Can you believe that?"
Nigel sighed and closed his eyes against a sudden headache.
***
Sydney's taxi stopped a little way up the street from the Ministry of Defence offices in Whitehall. Sydney had a quick look around, but there was no sign of Nigel.
"There you go, miss."
Sydney smiled at the driver. "Thanks." She never knew why Nigel complained about London taxi drivers. They were always so polite and considerate. She was about to pay her fare when she spied another taxi waiting at a different cross-roads, the mime artist was very definitely the passenger.
"Um, on second thoughts. Would you mind if we waited here for awhile? Please, leave the meter running."
The cabbie shrugged. "No problem, miss. I'll even give you the off-peak rate." He smiled and driver and passenger both settled back. "You'll be with the CIA then will you?" the cabbie chuckled.
"What makes you say that?" asked Sydney.
"Just a game I like to play sometimes. You know the sort of thing. Where people are going. What they are going there for. It passes the time."
"And what makes you think I'm with the CIA?" Sydney was smiling herself.
"Well, you're American. And you're parked outside the MoD. And you're very interested in that taxi over there. And you're not going in. You must be some kind of spy!" The cabby's eyes were twinkling with amusement.
"I hate to disappoint you..." Sydney broke off as she saw Nigel come out of the offices and head down the street. Quickly she looked over at the other taxi. The car was drifting forward slowly, its lights off. Sydney looked up to the end of the street where Nigel had succeeded in hailing a cab of his own. The mime artist's taxi suddenly growled into life and darted forward to follow. "Okay, let's go."
The cabbie started his car looking worriedly at her in the rear-view mirror. "Hey, you're not really with the CIA, are you?"
Sydney grinned reassuringly. "Nope. That man that came out of the MoD? He's a friend of mine. And the man in the taxi, he's not a friend of ours. I'm just keeping an eye on things."
The cabbie looked doubtful for a moment but something in Sydney's earnest expression must have convinced him. He grinned suddenly. "Okay then. Go on and say it. Please?"
Sydney was confused for a moment, then she realised what the driver meant. "Follow that cab!" she commanded.
"Yes, ma'am!" the cabbie took off. "I've always wanted someone to say that." he grinned.
***
Heathrow again! Sydney was profoundly grateful that Nigel's chase had not led to America or Canada or Australia or anywhere else that would have involved jet-lag. It was bad enough with just one hour's time difference. In fact she was now wearing two watches, each clearly labelled, one for British time, one for European. She hurried into the airport, donning the hat as she went.
Claudia spotted her immediately and bustled over. "Come on, Syd. No time to waste!"
Sydney allowed Claudia to guide her through the milling passengers to the correct departure gate. When they got to the desk Claudia presented their tickets. The two of them were almost the last to get on board. Sydney looked up at the red lights on the board informing passengers of their flight number and destination.
"Ardonen?"
Claudia tugged her forward. "Come on, Syd."
***
"Mr Bailey! What an unexpected surprise! We did not expect to see you again so soon!"
Nigel smiled at the hotel manager. "I'm a little surprised myself. But very glad to be back here."
"Always a pleasure, Mr Bailey." the manager turned the register for Nigel to sign. Nigel completed the formalities as Frakes answered a call on his mobile phone.
"There you are, Mr Bailey." the manager beamed as he handed Nigel two sets of keys. "Derek here will give you a hand with your luggage."
Nigel nodded and turned to see the young hotel porter hefting their bags. "Hello again, Derek. How's that motorbike of yours?"
"Running like a dream now, sir!"
Nigel nodded and turned as Frakes finished his low conversation.
"Lead on, MacDuff!" Troy was, as always, smiling, but his eyes were cold.
Nigel suppressed a shiver. "I think you'll find the correct quote is 'Lay on, MacDuff.'" Nigel amended and followed the porter up the stairs.
"I stand corrected." Troy muttered snidely and followed.
***
"This is nice." Claudia sounded a little uncertain.
"Yeah, it is," said Sydney absently. *What to do. What to do.* "It's even nicer in daylight." Their cab came into sight of the Ardonen Arms Hotel and Sydney decided on her course of action. "Stop the car, please." The taxi slowed to a stop. Sydney turned to Claudia. "I want you to find Mrs Cameron, she's the town curator, and I want you to tell her everything. Got that?"
Claudia nodded. "Where does she live?"
Sydney opened her mouth to answer, then realised that she did not know. She'd only seen Mrs Cameron's office, not her house. "Erm..."
"I know where Mrs C lives, if you need to see her."
Sydney looked towards the driver thankfully. "Thanks. You're a life saver." Quickly Sydney got out of the car, waving her mobile at Claudia. "Let me know as soon as you get to Mrs Cameron's!" Then she was gone.
Claudia shrugged. "All right then. Mrs C's, please." The taxi continued on its way.
***
Troy watched as Bailey laboriously unpacked his textbooks, his notes, his maps... When Nigel started to assemble the flip-chart Troy realised, with horror, that he was about to show him how he'd come to the next step.
"Ah, Mr Bailey. There is no need to convince me of your findings. Like I said before, I trust you." Troy could not bear the thought of having to listen to the researcher through the whole, convoluted story again.
Nigel shrugged. "As you wish." He picked up his coat. "Let's go then."
It was Troy's turn to be surprised. "Uh?"
"Let's go. You do want the Discoveror, don't you?"
"Right."
The two men left the hotel. Nigel guided them steadily towards Castle Ardonen, enjoying the sensation of power. He knew where the stone was. His work was about to be vindicated. If Sydney was here it would be even better. But since she wasn't... Nigel glanced back at his new pay-master. He'd just have to be very, very careful.
***
TBC
***
Claudia had taken over surveillance of the main gates. "This is really boring, Syd." she muttered. "Is it always like this?"
Sydney did not answer. She was turning an envelope over and over in her hands with a fixed expression on her face. She recognised the writing and had guessed what the envelope contained but, perversely, she did not want to open it. Right now she could pretend that Nigel was simply working on his own project. She could almost pretend that he would call any second, voice brimming with enthusiasm, and ask her to meet him so that they could finish the adventure together. But if she opened the letter, actually read the words "resigning my post" that fragile illusion would be shattered.
Suddenly, the gates to the Trevaylen mansion opened, Sydney and Claudia both straightened in their seats. Mere seconds passed before a top of the range Mercedes swept through and disappeared down the wooded road.
Sydney stuffed the envelope out of sight and turned the ignition of her own car setting off in pursuit.
"Was that Nigel?" asked Claudia, tightening her seatbelt.
"Yes." Sydney was relieved that Nigel was unharmed as far as she could tell from that split-second glance, but she had also recognised the driver. "Be careful, Nigel." she whispered quietly.
"Good. So we catch up. You two make up. We find this stone or whatever, and we go home. Right?"
"Right." agreed Sydney. Bark cinders spat from beneath the tyres as Sydney negotiated a particularly tight bend.
Claudia braced her feet against the floor of the car, dug her shoulders into the car seat and reached for the jacket holder above the window. "That's a relief," she muttered breathlessly, "for a second there, I thought you were thinking about taking some needless risk..." Claudia's voice became more high-pitched as they approached another Z-bend. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Sydney guided the car out of the turn and spared a glance at her terrified passenger. "Who me? Never!" She stamped on the accelerator.
***
"Two for London, Heathrow."
Nigel looked around the airport with a jaundiced eye as Frakes bought the tickets for the next stage of their journey. He could admit that, in all honesty, he'd never been so unsure in his life. Angry, yes. Terrified, undoubtedly. But never so... lost. He snorted to himself. Here he was, probably about to make the discovery of the millennium and it was all going wrong. He did not trust Frakes. His story was too glib, too convenient. He'd seen enough con-artists to know when he was being taken for a ride, but for now Nigel had little choice other than go with his new 'ally'. He could almost imagine Sydney's voice telling him to be careful. It was one piece of advice he had every intention of following.
***
"There they are." Claudia pointed enthusiastically.
Sydney sighed and quickly grabbed Claudia's arm, pushing it down. "And we don't want them to see us, so no drawing attention to ourselves."
"Sorry." Claudia muttered. She glanced towards Sydney. "Syd...?"
"Mmn?" Sydney was scanning the concourse looking for trouble. Wherever Benjamin Troy was, grief was sure to be along for the ride. She had picked out two possible accomplices and one definite, before Claudia's question registered. "What did you say?"
Irritation crossed Claudia's face. "I said," she repeated slowly and deliberately, "How do we know where they are going?"
Sydney looked back to the booth Nigel and Troy had just left. "Well, they're flying with 'British Airways', there's only one place they could be going..." her voice trailed off as she saw the board above the cashier's head; flights to Dusseldorf, Barcelona, Naples, London. "Oops."
"Oops? What's 'Oops'?"
"A miscalculation." Sydney watched the man she was sure was with Troy. He did not seem to be in any hurry to get on a plane.
"Right then." Claudia stood up straight. "We don't have time for any 'miscalculations'." She marched off towards the ticket stand.
"Claudia!" Sydney hissed, but the secretary ignored her. Sydney took a step forwards, then thought better of it. She had recognised Troy, she was fairly sure she recognised one of the not so random passengers, it was possible that they would recognise her. Sydney clenched her fists in frustration.
***
Claudia swallowed her nervousness and strode past the queue of people. At the head of the queue was a very large, very irate man sporting a garish football top. Claudia's step did not falter, although she balked inside about what she was about to do. She straightened her spine and shouldered her way in front of the supporter.
"Oi!" the man was understandably indignant, but Claudia was expecting, counting on that. She whirled pulling her wallet from her pocket and thrusting it close to his face. "Interpol!" she hissed, "If you don't want to spend the next day in a prison cell, I suggest you back off. Now!"
Hurriedly the supporter stepped back, straight onto the foot of the man behind him. The elderly gentleman cried out and bent over to push away the supporter's leg. In doing so he bumped against the woman behind him. She turned quickly and the oversized golf bag she was carrying across one shoulder jarred the supporter as he went to help the man he had trodden on.
In the confusion of the yelps of pain and the stuttered apologies Claudia turned to the BA representative, snapping shut her wallet. "Two men, Caucasian, one approximately six foot, 210 pounds, blonde hair, green eyes. The other, slightly shorter, brown eyes, wavy brown hair. They were here. Which flight are they booked on?" Claudia settled an uncompromising glare on the assistant.
The assistant tore his gaze away from the unfolding pantomime behind Claudia, wincing in reflexive sympathy as the head of a golf club swiped across the supporter's belly and the man doubled up.
"Heathrow." he said dazedly.
Claudia gave him a brilliant if unnoticed smile. "Thank you very much." she trilled. She spun on her heel and picked her way through the gawping passengers.
***
"They're going to London." said Claudia triumphantly as she returned to Sydney.
"Really." said Sydney, still gaping at the devastation Claudia had left behind. She glanced at Claudia's flushed face. "I'm impressed. Now, let's get our own flights," Sydney took Claudia's arm and spared a glance over her shoulder to where some order was being restored to the British Airways desk, "from a different airline, I think."
"Oh, I don't know. Interpol contacts might get us a discount."
"Don't push it." growled Sydney. "Always remember, a successful con is knowing when to quit."
"Right."
***
"So, Mr Bailey." Troy took a sip from his glass of complementary champagne. "Where to next?"
Nigel dragged his nose away from his notes and tiredly pushed his glasses back to the top of his head. "The War Department." he said shortly. "I need confirmation on a few points."
Troy's curiosity was burning, but he did not want to appear too eager for information. He had to let Bailey believe that he was still in control, so instead Troy chose to concentrate on the 'how' rather than the 'what'. "Do you think the British Civil Service will let you waltz in to their offices and demand information?"
"One of them will. At least she will for me, I don't know about you."
"Very well, Mr Bailey. I'll wait for you. I trust you." said Troy with a wide smile.
Nigel nodded and returned to his notes trying to dislodge the picture of a crocodile which had suddenly popped into his mind.
***
Heathrow was even busier than Charles de Gaul, if that was possible. But at last Syd and Claudia had had a piece of overdue luck. Nigel's flight had been delayed allowing Syd and Claudia the chance to pick the best spots from which to find Nigel amongst the disembarking passengers. Sydney sat in one of the waiting areas, peering out at the two main exits, the car rental desk and the baggage claim from beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Not much of a disguise, but it was the best she could do on such short notice.
Sydney felt a vibration from her mobile phone and flicked it open. "Do you see them, Claudia?"
"Not yet. But look who else is here."
Sydney looked up to where Claudia was standing on the next level. Claudia nodded her head and jerked it to the opposite side of the concourse. Sydney followed her nod; nothing there, up to the top level, Ah...
The top floor of the concourse was glassed in - the lounge for the executives and VIP passengers. The fine curtains had been pulled aside at one point and an old man, leaning on a cane stood looking down, apparently scanning the concourse below with the same avidity as herself and Claudia.
"Elliot Trevaylen." Sydney muttered. "What's he doing here?"
Sydney's thoughts were interrupted by an excited squawk from her mobile.
"I can see them, Syd. They're getting their bags."
"Okay, Claudia. Get down here and be ready to go."
"On my way." Sydney closed the phone and gathered her bag, watching as Nigel and Troy made their way to the exit. She was about to stand when she saw Troy and Nigel shake hands then Nigel left and joined the taxi-rank outside. Sydney was surprised. Surely Troy would not let Nigel out of his sight?
Troy glanced up towards the top lounge and smiled. Then he turned and gestured with his hand. For a terrible moment Sydney thought he was waving at her but then Troy was joined by the same man Sydney had recognised in Paris. She wished she could remember his name, Marcel or Marceaux, or something. The two men spoke for a moment then the mime artist joined the taxi queue and Troy headed for the executive lounge.
"Okay, I'm here. What d'we do?" Claudia was slightly out of breath from running.
Sydney was torn. She did not want to leave Nigel with that brute on his tail, but neither could they afford to lose track of Troy. She had only a few seconds in which to make up her mind. She took a deep breath, crossed her fingers and prayed she was making the right decision.
"Claudia, stay here. Troy's gone up to see Trevaylen. Don't lose him. If you can, find out where he and Nigel are going next. Somehow, I doubt that the Discoveror is hidden in Heathrow Airport. But don't let him see you, okay?"
Claudia nodded faintly. "What about you?"
"I'm going to follow Nigel." Sydney gave Claudia's hand a small squeeze. "Be careful."
"You too." But Sydney was already gone. Claudia sighed and looked up to the executive lounge. The curtains were back in place and Claudia could see nothing. She sighed again and went to look for the exit to the lounge so that she would not miss Troy when he came out.
***
Nigel settled back into the wide seats of the London taxi with a deep sigh of relief. He was very surprised that Frakes had not insisted on accompanying him, but Frakes himself had seemed a bit distracted and Nigel was not about to argue when he suggested staying behind in the airport.
It was with a lighter heart that Nigel looked out at the sights. He did not miss London particularly, but he did miss the cabs, the space to spread out and feel as if you were being chauffeured in your very own limousine. London taxi drivers, on the other hand, were almost always guaranteed to spoil it.
"Look at that will ya?" The driver shook his fist as they passed by a motorist who had been parked on double yellow lines and stopped by a traffic warden. The warden had his book out and was writing solidly despite the protestations of the motorist. "Bloody traffic wardens. Little Hitlers every one of them!"
Nigel cringed in his seat, the age-old taxi debate coming up on him; Stay quiet? or argue back? With relief Nigel saw that they were approaching the Houses of Parliament, they would soon be at his destination.
"And they're not the worst of them! Oh no! Clampers! Ever had your car clamped? Two hundred and eighty quid to get them to take that flamin' clamp off your car. Somebody, somewhere is making a bloody fortune!"
Nigel grunted noncommittally and stared out of the window, hoping the driver would take the hint. He was not that lucky.
"My brother-in-law, now he used to work for the council. He says they had more problems with cowboy clamping operations than flamin' vandals. Can you believe that?"
Nigel sighed and closed his eyes against a sudden headache.
***
Sydney's taxi stopped a little way up the street from the Ministry of Defence offices in Whitehall. Sydney had a quick look around, but there was no sign of Nigel.
"There you go, miss."
Sydney smiled at the driver. "Thanks." She never knew why Nigel complained about London taxi drivers. They were always so polite and considerate. She was about to pay her fare when she spied another taxi waiting at a different cross-roads, the mime artist was very definitely the passenger.
"Um, on second thoughts. Would you mind if we waited here for awhile? Please, leave the meter running."
The cabbie shrugged. "No problem, miss. I'll even give you the off-peak rate." He smiled and driver and passenger both settled back. "You'll be with the CIA then will you?" the cabbie chuckled.
"What makes you say that?" asked Sydney.
"Just a game I like to play sometimes. You know the sort of thing. Where people are going. What they are going there for. It passes the time."
"And what makes you think I'm with the CIA?" Sydney was smiling herself.
"Well, you're American. And you're parked outside the MoD. And you're very interested in that taxi over there. And you're not going in. You must be some kind of spy!" The cabby's eyes were twinkling with amusement.
"I hate to disappoint you..." Sydney broke off as she saw Nigel come out of the offices and head down the street. Quickly she looked over at the other taxi. The car was drifting forward slowly, its lights off. Sydney looked up to the end of the street where Nigel had succeeded in hailing a cab of his own. The mime artist's taxi suddenly growled into life and darted forward to follow. "Okay, let's go."
The cabbie started his car looking worriedly at her in the rear-view mirror. "Hey, you're not really with the CIA, are you?"
Sydney grinned reassuringly. "Nope. That man that came out of the MoD? He's a friend of mine. And the man in the taxi, he's not a friend of ours. I'm just keeping an eye on things."
The cabbie looked doubtful for a moment but something in Sydney's earnest expression must have convinced him. He grinned suddenly. "Okay then. Go on and say it. Please?"
Sydney was confused for a moment, then she realised what the driver meant. "Follow that cab!" she commanded.
"Yes, ma'am!" the cabbie took off. "I've always wanted someone to say that." he grinned.
***
Heathrow again! Sydney was profoundly grateful that Nigel's chase had not led to America or Canada or Australia or anywhere else that would have involved jet-lag. It was bad enough with just one hour's time difference. In fact she was now wearing two watches, each clearly labelled, one for British time, one for European. She hurried into the airport, donning the hat as she went.
Claudia spotted her immediately and bustled over. "Come on, Syd. No time to waste!"
Sydney allowed Claudia to guide her through the milling passengers to the correct departure gate. When they got to the desk Claudia presented their tickets. The two of them were almost the last to get on board. Sydney looked up at the red lights on the board informing passengers of their flight number and destination.
"Ardonen?"
Claudia tugged her forward. "Come on, Syd."
***
"Mr Bailey! What an unexpected surprise! We did not expect to see you again so soon!"
Nigel smiled at the hotel manager. "I'm a little surprised myself. But very glad to be back here."
"Always a pleasure, Mr Bailey." the manager turned the register for Nigel to sign. Nigel completed the formalities as Frakes answered a call on his mobile phone.
"There you are, Mr Bailey." the manager beamed as he handed Nigel two sets of keys. "Derek here will give you a hand with your luggage."
Nigel nodded and turned to see the young hotel porter hefting their bags. "Hello again, Derek. How's that motorbike of yours?"
"Running like a dream now, sir!"
Nigel nodded and turned as Frakes finished his low conversation.
"Lead on, MacDuff!" Troy was, as always, smiling, but his eyes were cold.
Nigel suppressed a shiver. "I think you'll find the correct quote is 'Lay on, MacDuff.'" Nigel amended and followed the porter up the stairs.
"I stand corrected." Troy muttered snidely and followed.
***
"This is nice." Claudia sounded a little uncertain.
"Yeah, it is," said Sydney absently. *What to do. What to do.* "It's even nicer in daylight." Their cab came into sight of the Ardonen Arms Hotel and Sydney decided on her course of action. "Stop the car, please." The taxi slowed to a stop. Sydney turned to Claudia. "I want you to find Mrs Cameron, she's the town curator, and I want you to tell her everything. Got that?"
Claudia nodded. "Where does she live?"
Sydney opened her mouth to answer, then realised that she did not know. She'd only seen Mrs Cameron's office, not her house. "Erm..."
"I know where Mrs C lives, if you need to see her."
Sydney looked towards the driver thankfully. "Thanks. You're a life saver." Quickly Sydney got out of the car, waving her mobile at Claudia. "Let me know as soon as you get to Mrs Cameron's!" Then she was gone.
Claudia shrugged. "All right then. Mrs C's, please." The taxi continued on its way.
***
Troy watched as Bailey laboriously unpacked his textbooks, his notes, his maps... When Nigel started to assemble the flip-chart Troy realised, with horror, that he was about to show him how he'd come to the next step.
"Ah, Mr Bailey. There is no need to convince me of your findings. Like I said before, I trust you." Troy could not bear the thought of having to listen to the researcher through the whole, convoluted story again.
Nigel shrugged. "As you wish." He picked up his coat. "Let's go then."
It was Troy's turn to be surprised. "Uh?"
"Let's go. You do want the Discoveror, don't you?"
"Right."
The two men left the hotel. Nigel guided them steadily towards Castle Ardonen, enjoying the sensation of power. He knew where the stone was. His work was about to be vindicated. If Sydney was here it would be even better. But since she wasn't... Nigel glanced back at his new pay-master. He'd just have to be very, very careful.
***
TBC