Favoured Friends
Part 37/51

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: Tuesday, July 29, 2003

Across the aisle, Preston Bailey sat, alternating his gaze between his little brother, who to the untrained eye, appeared sleeping, and The Viper, who looked on the verge of capturing the Olympic gold medal for smugness.

*The Viper*... Preston narrowed his eyes. Until now, he hadn't had a decent look at the man who had rapidly become their nemesis. Their first fleeting encounter in the hotel hallway hardly qualified as a thorough inspection.

The dark African night streamed by the windows of the airplane, and to keep a better eye on his captives, the mercenary had flicked on several over-head reading lights to ward off the darkness. Eerie shadows hung darkly in the corner of the plane, filling the front of the aircraft and slowly diminishing as they crept back towards the light.

And there, in the focal point of the light, holding his pistol, poised and secure in his own belief of victory, sat The Viper.

Overall, Preston wasn't overly impressed. He didn't know what he'd expected really... a hulking behemoth? An odd character with a pet snake? Someone with a peg leg, an eye patch, and a hook? The Viper was so... ordinary. Nothing stood out and screamed `villain!'. Preston found something infuriating about that. After everything he'd been through, everything Nigel had been through, it hardly seemed possible this was the person responsible.

As though sensing Preston's thoughts, The Viper glanced at him, favoring him with an idle smirk. "I bet you wished you'd taken my advice," the villain spoke in a low voice, attracting no one else but Claudia's attention. "If you'd given me my money, you wouldn't be in this mess Mr. Bailey."

"Perhaps not." Preston agreed coolly, using an equally soft voice. The twin engines were droning loud enough to blot out any conversation, but he wanted to make certain he wasn't overheard. He leaned forward slightly. "But tell me the truth, would I really have ever seen him again?"

The Viper arched an eyebrow, cocking his head to one side as he considered the question. It was something he'd asked himself a dozen times since he'd started the job. The answer had seemed to change every minute. Finally he clicked his tongue slightly and shrugged. "I'm afraid I couldn't say."

"Couldn't, or won't?" Preston challenged. At his side, Claudia gave him a disbelieving nudge, but he ignored her.

"You're suspicious," The Viper smiled, sounding almost pleased. "I like that, but this is the truth. Before you and Fox showed up and ruined my plan, the odds of you seeing him again were probably over fifty/fifty. Despite what I'm sure Lloyd tried to scare you with, pointless killing rarely makes me happy." He paused for a moment. "If you'd delivered the ransom and if I'd found Ichriem, then yes, I probably would have let him go alive and well. I may have let him go even without Ichriem."

And why wouldn't he? He'd always lived up to his kidnapping agreements, and if he failed to pocket the half billion-dollar prize, he could easily change his appearance and fade into obscurity with eleven million. Whoever Nigel Bailey gave a description to wouldn't matter. Hair could be dyed, a beard could be grown, and money could buy a lot of things. The kidnapping had been for the multiple goals of earning a little extra pocket change, learning more about Ichriem, and most importantly getting revenge on Sydney Fox. If the ransom had come through, all those objectives would have been covered. But now, things had become much more difficult.

Preston shook his head, not willing to believe what he was hearing. "You would never have let him go."

"Wouldn't I?" The mercenary asked. "You're so sure I'm lying... Why? Because I kill people?" He laughed quietly. He never tired of the irony. "That doesn't make me a liar. I think the truth isn't what you wanted to hear, is it?" His voice became harsher, but remained quiet. "Because the truth is, if you had followed my instructions, he would have a better chance, and you could be at home, safe and sound. Is that the truth you were so interested in?" he hissed. "Knowing what your lack of judgement has cost you?"

Preston stiffened in anger, his hands clenching into fists beneath the concealing sleeves of his robe. He wasn't a man prone to violence but the urge to belt The Viper with a strong right hook was nearly overwhelming. It was a lie, it had to be. He'd followed Sydney and her government friend based on their word, believing it was his brother's only chance. While he would have gladly paid the ransom, they'd talked him out of it, convincing him Nigel faced certain death either way. But as he stared into the villain's liquid brown eyes, he saw something there he didn't like and could scarcely bring himself to believe: he saw the mercenary was telling the truth.

A foreign voice crackled over the paltry speakers in the plane, advising everyone in a happy Arabic voice to buckle in and prepare for landing in Sid Ifni.

The Viper leaned back slightly, the smug expression returning to his face as though it had never left. "I'd fasten my seatbelt if I were you."

Preston averted his eyes. At his side, Claudia muttered not to believe The Viper, but it was too late... he'd already been shown the truth. The horde of `what-ifs' he'd fought while Nigel was missing came creeping out of the darkness and lurked at the corners of his mind.

He looked to his brother, knowing by instinct his sibling wasn't really sleeping. All through their youth, Nigel could play opossum with the best of them, and apparently time hadn't stolen the knack. He wondered what his brother was thinking... wondered if he knew the truth. *I hope I haven't made a terrible mistake in coming here.*

And as he watched, he soon saw Nigel open his eyes and glance around, pushing himself up with one hand. It was then he caught his brother's gaze and perceived a spark of something he hadn't seen in a long time: It was Nigel's "I-Know-How-to- Sneak-Cookies-Out-of-the-Kitchen" look. The "I've-Got-an-Idea- that-Just-Might-Work" glimmer that often heralded a scheme that either worked brilliantly or backfired completely.

The Arabic captain came back over the speakers, announcing their descent as the plane slowly began lowering towards the ground.

Preston locked eyes with his brother and tightened his gaze. *What are you up to Podge?* But Nigel's only response to the scrutiny was a wink and a smile so slight it almost wasn't there. A bump beneath the fuselage announced the lowering of the landing gear. In minutes they'd be on the ground, and then... he traded glances with his brother again, sensing that whatever plan Nigel had cooked up had solidified... *God help us all.*

End Part Thirty-Seven