Favoured Friends
Part 8/?
Summary: An invitation to the National Egyptology Conference quickly becomes deadly race for the mythic Ichriem against an old rival of Sydney's - the assassin known only as 'the Viper'.
Note: This is a round robin originally posted at the Relic Hunter Yahoo Group. Although I'm posting it, I did not write the entire thing. This part was written by Cari Loran ( carilorus@yahoo.com )
Also, I have Support Services. That means that, if you want, you can put me on Author Alert and receive notice when other stories of mine are posted, even if you haven't paid yourself.
Posted: Sunday, July 28, 2002
Some people said crime didn't pay... but they'd obviously never found the
right crime. As the old saying went, good things came to those who waited.
The Viper securely fastened nylon ropes around the wrists of his captive and
stood back to study his handiwork.
Capturing Nigel Bailey, the earnest assistant of Sydney Fox, had been a mild
challenge at best. The boy had predictably gone to the hospital, trailing after
his wounded mentor... And if that fool Blount had done his job at the ballroom,
he never would have gotten that far. The fat man had been a rank amateur, hired
cheap and ultimately killed cheaper. Society certainly wouldn't mourn the loss
for long.
On the other hand, society might well mourn the loss of the young man lying
before him on a thin, narrow cot. The Viper had been in the business a long
time, longer than the unconscious boy had even been alive. It was his job
to know something valuable when he found it, and Bailey had much more value
alive than dead.
Research was the Viper's best tool, having always made it his business to know
his prey. Sydney Fox was, of course, a well-known relic hunter. She was admired,
trusted, respected... it turned his stomach to think of the valuable relics
she'd happily given away to worthless museums over the years. Her family
was nothing exceptional. She was an only child, her father was an engineer...
globetrotting in his work and well off, but not fantastically wealthy.
No money there.
Her assistant though was another story, and a much more appealing one.
He was the youngest son of a distinguished British family, his parents had
been killed in a freak car accident, and on his thirtieth birthday in several
more years, he was heir to half of a very impressive fortune. Even if Nigel
Bailey knew nothing about Ichriem, he was still worth millions to his older
brother in ransom.
He'd snagged the proverbial golden goose, and that incompetent Blount had gotten
trigger-happy and almost killed it before it laid a single egg.
The Viper took a seat on the edge of the cot, pressing two fingers on the side
of the young man's throat... the pulse was still slow; he'd probably be
unconscious a while longer. The mercenary smiled to himself. Half the fun of
kidnapping Bailey would be the unflappable Sydney Fox's reaction to it.
The look on her face at the hotel when he'd originally threatened her
assistant's life had been priceless. He could only imagine her reaction at
learning the young man was actually missing.
He could see it all now... there she'd be, lying prone in her hospital bed, then
suddenly the police would burst in and tell her the news. She'd be furious of
course, shocked, scared... he nearly laughed. She'd probably try to jump out of
bed right then and there to join the search effort. But then, that was why
rattlesnake was his favorite poison.
By the time Fox was well enough to start looking, he'd be long gone, taking her
faithful sidekick with him.
Yes, the operation had been smooth so far, the only two snags being Blount's
bungling and the rather unfortunate involvement of the FBI. Experience had
taught him the local police were blithering idiots, more eager to examine a
jelly donut than a smoking gun, but the feds were always a bit trickier.
He knew they had a file on him, but then, so did the CIA, SVR, MI-6, and any
other national security agency worth its salt. No matter how good he was, it was
impossible to spend half his life stealing antiquities, assassinating
politicians, kidnapping billionaires, and poisoning any rival that crossed his
path without attracting a little notice.
But files alone were nothing... meager lists of a few scattered activities. They
had no grainy photograph, no smudged fingerprints, no abandoned scrap of
clothing, nothing to know him except his trademark poisons. He was still a
rumor, and still just as anonymous as the day he'd begun.
He slid his hand from checking Nigel's pulse and stood, glancing around the
room. The décor of the office in the airplane hanger left much to be desired...
a worn desk, the thin cot, and a telephone so antiquated it was nearly a relic
itself... but it didn't matter. Within an hour his private jet would be gassed
and ready and he'd be in the air, far from the filthy streets of New York and
closer than ever to Ichriem.
The Viper smiled. Sydney Fox may have outsmarted him eight years before, but now
he had the upper hand, and the prayers of a hundred Muslim prayer books wouldn't
help her.
End Part Eight