Favoured Friends

Part 27/?

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: Wednesday, May 21, 2003

"Preston!" Nigel whispered franticly. "No!" Wintry tendrils of fear coiled tightly around his heart, threatening to completely overtake him. *Oh, this could not be happening… Not be happening!* Just minutes ago he'd been dazed by the sudden appearance of his brother, scarcely able to believe he was real and not a hallucination conjured up by a fit of delirium. But now a hallucination would have been wildly preferable. It sounded downright appealing. "Don't you do this to me!"

Steeling himself, he shakily pressed his fingers to his brother's throat, feeling tears spring to his eyes as he felt the solid presence of a pulse. A strangled sound halfway between a laugh and a sob broke from his throat and he wiped at the tears tracing down his cheeks. He was alive!

Nigel silently thanked God and ignored the prying eyes of the questionable hotel clientele as he scanned his brother's robes, searching for what he could only imagine would be a grievous wound. After a moment he quickly located the point of impact, marked by a small hole in the baggy robe on the right side of his brother's chest.

Working quickly, he gripped the coarse material, using the bullet's tear as a starting point, and ripped it open. He mentally prepared himself for the worst, summoning up every scrap and ounce of information he'd ever learned about first aid.

But as he finally gained a clear view of the situation, astonishment flooded his features. Beneath the robe there was a definite bullet hole in his brother's shirt, but no signs of any ghastly wound lingering beyond. There was no blood. Nigel plucked at the hole and frowned, spotting the dull end of a bullet poking from beneath the powder-burnt split.

Realization crashed over him along with a wave of disbelief: The bullet hadn't penetrated! Somehow, something had managed to stop it dead in its path, and after carefully reaching into his brother's shirt pocket, he discovered what that fortuitous 'something' had been.

It was a small, now twisted and bent, piece of stainless steel and shattered glass that took less than a moment for Nigel to identify.

It was his watch.

The very same piece of sturdy Swiss craftsmanship that had once belonged to his father, the same one he'd fastened to his own wrist nearly everyday since his parent's funeral.

He studied the object with wonder, remembering wearing it the night The Viper broke into his New York hotel room, but not recalling when it had been taken from him. He'd realized it was missing of course, but assumed it had been confiscated to keep him from knowing the date or time. But now he knew the truth. The mercenary must have sent the watch to Preston as part of his ransom package, using it as some sort of proof of intent. And now the watch had just saved his life from the very person who'd sent to him in extortion.

Promising to savor the irony at a later time, Nigel palmed the remnants of the trusty timepiece and used his free hand to lightly slap at his brother's face. "Come on Preston!" he urged, looking fervently around the dirty corridor. "I need you."

Many of the locals seemed to have lost interest, as though they saw shootings in the hallway everyday, and had milled back into their rooms. A handful still peered from their doorways, probably waiting to see if Nigel would leave the "body" alone long enough for them to creep out and frisk it for valuables. Nigel shot the nearest such lurker a dirty look, which evidently must have been pretty convincing, sending the man back to his room with a mutter of Arabic.

He grabbed his brother's shoulder and gave him a vigorous shake, this time rewarded with a groan as Preston blinked into consciousness. Nigel slumped, both mentally and physically, in relief. "Welcome back," he said with a soft smile.

Preston stared up at the ceiling, blinking and turning towards his little brother. "Nigel…" he started, breaking off with a wince as the deep bruise on his chest made itself acutely known. "Ooh," he groaned, moving one hand to cover the area. "What happened?" His eyes suddenly went wide with unspoken realization and he redirected his hand, reaching up to clutch Nigel's arm and desperately sweep his eyes over him. "Are you hurt?" he demanded, pushing himself up with his free hand.

"No," Nigel shook his head, noticing the remaining hotel lurkers had become completely disinterested, shuffling off their separate ways as soon Preston began speaking. "I'm alright. How do you feel?"

Now sitting up, the elder Bailey sucked in a couple of deep breaths, wincing sharply. The entire right quadrant of his chest throbbed with bitterly raw pulses that seemed to echo straight through his body. He felt like a sledgehammer had attacked him. "I think saying 'sore' would be a bit of an understatement…" He looked down at his clothes, pushing aside the robe and catching sight of the bullet hole through his breast pocket. He looked to Nigel in shocked bewilderment. "I was shot?!? But…" Words seemed to fail him. "Then how…?" How was he still alive?

Hearing the unspoken question, Nigel opened his fist, taking his brother's hand in his and pressing the distorted remnant of the watch into it. "You might say," he was unable to resist, "it was in the nick of time." And never had a pun held so much truth.

Preston pondered the remark, then caught his first glimpse of what Nigel had given him and felt his jaw drop. *The watch*… He ran his fingers over the warped surface, noting the small caliber bullet still firmly lodged in place. He was no ballistics expert, but deduced the bullet must have struck at an angle, otherwise it would have gone straight through the relatively thin layers of stainless steel. It was a well-made watch, but it wasn't designed to act like a Kevlar vest. A fraction of a millimeter in either direction, and he wouldn't have been so lucky.

"I was bringing it back to you," Preston explained quietly, still staring at the twisted timepiece. He looked up. "I know how much you loved it."

Nigel shook his head. "It doesn't matter. There are some things," he smiled tightly, meeting his brother's gaze, "that I love much more than that watch."

Preston blinked at the unexpected declaration and a warm smile broke across his features, seeming to erase the last frantic days of tension and uncertainty. "And there are things I love much more than eleven million dollars." He reached out his arms and pulled his brother into a hug, ignoring the strain and protest of his bruised muscles. "Before Sydney came along I was going to give it to him Podge, without a second thought. I wanted you to know."

"I know you would have." And he did. Nigel tightened his hug at the words, then let go and pulled back. "So are you ready to get out of here?"

Preston rolled his eyes. "You've got to be bloody kidding."

They both scrambled to their feet, Nigel giving his brother a hand up. At the moment, adrenaline was his still best friend, giving him much more stamina than he'd had a mere ten minutes ago. The two crept quickly down the hallway and paused at the outside door. Nigel opened it a crack and peered out, not seeing any sign of either The Viper or Derek Lloyd.

At the thought of the agent, Nigel realized he had about a thousand questions he wanted to ask his brother. How had they ever found him? And how had they done it so quickly? The Viper had claimed to have over a day's head start… seemed rather proud of it in fact. What had happened in Egypt? Had there really been a trap? Now wasn't the time to ask, but he hoped to have answers as soon as they made it to safety.

"Well," Preston asked, "do you see anyone?"

"No," Nigel scanned the area again. If there were any shady characters out there, they were too shady to be spotted. "Where's Syd and Claudia?"

"They're hiding somewhere across the street. We're going to meet up with them." He gave Nigel an appraising look. "Are you ready?"

"You've got to be bloody kidding." Nigel echoed his brother's earlier response.

Preston grinned, and together they flipped up the hoods of their robes, pushed open the door, and stepped into the street, gladly leaving behind the dingy hotel and all its dubious patrons.

End Part Twenty-Seven