Favoured Friends

Part 12/?

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 LeiLani ( dawnleilani@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: Wednesday, August 21, 2002

Claudia didn't like it.

Sydney was going off to Egypt alone, and nobody answered Nigel's cell phone. Nigel never let go of the phone. It would have to be surgically detached from his hand when he died.

Oh, now that was the wrong thought. A shiver ran through the secretary's slender body. Something was definitely wrong, she knew it. Well of course something's wrong, you idiot! Sydney's in the hospital! It stood to reason that Sydney shouldn't be headed for Cairo. And here was Claudia, typing in reservations and pulling all necessary strings to get Syd's passport updated and a visa issued.

Something must have happened to Nigel. It was the only possible answer.

The moderately large package on Sydney's desk must be important. It was wrapped in plain brown paper and addressed in dark marker, with no return address. Claudia bit her lip again, then pulled up an address in her computer. In light of the horror in New York, you couldn't just book a flight overseas, not any more, and especially not to the Middle East. On the other hand, it wasn't like there were no airplanes, and it was official school business. She edged closer to Sydney's desk just as the phone rang.

"Ancient Studies." Making a face, she aborted her original intent to pick up the box. She knew better than to shake it hard, of course, but she might at least get a few ideas. Was it some large, heavy object that took up the whole box? Was it something tiny but fragile, locked in a prison of bubble wrap and tape? Or was it something entirely new?

With Sydney's job, you never knew.

"Claudia?"

She brightened, smoothing her skirt. "Nigel! I thought something might have happened to you! Sydney's in the hospital. Are you there with her?"

His voice was weary and unsteady. "No, Claudia, but I need you to do something for me." There was the sound of flesh striking flesh and Nigel cried out. "All right, I'm telling her!" His words were rushed now, tumbling one after another in a desperate bid to get his message through, no matter what it cost him. "Claudia, you have to keep Sydney away from here. The Viper is looking for Ichriem, and he knows we have it – "

Amid sounds of struggle, an entirely new voice came on line - a masculine voice, somehow familiar and elusive, hovering just beyond her memory. "If you want the kid sent home in one piece, I want the Ichriem and I want it now."

Claudia shivered again. Between the eerie voice of the speaker and the muffled cries from Nigel, she put together a very ugly picture. "Look, I have it, but you'll have to authenticate it yourself. Just tell me where Nigel is and I'll drive over and pick him up. That way you don't have to worry about it."

"Oh, no, my little dandelion head. You can't drive where we are. You can only get here by caravan, and it's quite the exclusive party. Invitation only, in fact. Of course, if you really do have the Ichriem, you will be invited to join us, possibly even compelled to do so."

~*~

Heat set the air dancing around him. Even across the room, the lines of the mosaic-topped table wavered and snaked like a thing alive. Overhead, a ceiling fan moved in slow, steady circles. Nigel wondered if it was intended to cool or merely to distribute the inferno throughout the room.

He leaned forward, nursing his head. He vaguely recalled answering questions. His memory, though not terribly reliable right now, plugged in a lot of phrases that mostly boiled down to I don't know. His throat ached, the aftereffects of Sodium Pentothal. A clear pitcher of ice water sat just out of his reach, one of several gestures from the kidnapper. The Viper now knew that Nigel didn't have the Ichriem, and that the Englishman didn't know where it was. Nigel knew his usefulness was nearing its end, and that he was about to die. With that fatalistic state of mind, he let his thoughts meander into previously forbidden territory.

Sweat trickled from his forehead, following the contours of his face and dripping to the floor. The damp spots might have been tears, but he was strangely unafraid. His merciless memory reminded him of all of the times he cowered in terror while a lone Sydney defended herself, defending him in the process. He didn't waste time being ashamed. He was too busy savoring every memory of his friend, and embraced his secret crush. Okay, he admitted to himself, maybe not so secret. She knew and did her best to protect your feelings.

A rough hemp rope bit into his ankles and wrists, tethering him to the heavy iron bed. He stopped trying to free himself. He couldn't lift the bed and couldn't untie the rope. He wasn't going to get away this time.

The only luxury in this corner of hell was the lumpy bed. He stretched out on the bare mattress, trying to ignore the smell of human waste that clung to it. Without hope, he had nothing left but dreams. His eyes closed and he smiled as a sweet, familiar face smiled back at him. "Sydney," he said. The word fell from his parched lips in a cross between a sigh and a prayer.

End Part Twelve