Favoured Friends
Part 45/51
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 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: Sunday, December 7, 2003
Keeping his eyelids at half-mast, Derek Lloyd read every syllable that Sydney and Nigel exchanged. The headset was set to a local radio station, where a bad deejay played even worse music. It was all religious gibberish in a native dialect that gave Lloyd a headache. If he concentrated, he could understand, but he could care less about the broadcast. He wanted to know more about the relic hunters.
And he didn't like what he saw.
Aside from clandestine references to their companions, Sydney and Nigel leaned into each other's space, their mutual body language screaming intimacy. If they weren't lovers yet, it was almost certainly their destiny. The thought threw a dark pall over Lloyd's already-dark mood.
If Sydney believed that the worst of it was over, she was truly naïve. There would be a Gural Nataz army waiting on Mer de Tueur, a guerrilla force armed to the teeth and prepped to blow them out of the air. Just landing the chopper would be risky. Stepping out would be suicide. Once more, Lloyd choked back the desire to order them back to the U.S., to shackle Sydney to her office, if need be. She shouldn't be out of the hospital, much less out up to her eyeballs in terrorism and intrigue.
The Bailey boy was a thorn in Lloyd's side. It would be so easy to hate the kid, if only he had some truly bad qualities besides being annoying. If the boy were crude or obnoxious, overbearing, disrespectful, or just plain stupid, Lloyd could hate Nigel without compunction.
But the fact of the matter was that Nigel Bailey was a brilliant scholar, and was becoming increasingly adept at finding his way out of the sticky situations. The boy was sharp as a tack and gaining in strength and agility every day. The kid had spunk, and Lloyd had to admire that.
Watching the expressions flit over the younger man's face, Lloyd had to concede to another truth where Nigel Bailey was concerned. Bailey was in love with Sydney, too.
A surge of jealousy rose in him, and Lloyd clenched both hands into fists.
It was a short-lived ire. Bailey was in the same boat as every other man who fell for Sydney Fox. The kid was out of luck, because the lady was keeping just enough distance. If and when they finally came together, Nigel would love Sydney, and she would use the boy and discard him, just like she had all her previous teaching assistants.
Just like she would do with Lloyd when the time came, as much as he wanted to believe otherwise. It made things less messy. It was what he was supposed to do. No long-term attachments, no family, no openings for the enemy to use against him.
And he hated it.
For the first time in his life, Derek Lloyd pictured himself settling down in one place, without guns, without the razor's edge that thrilled him, without the constant challenges to keep him in peak form. Suddenly, he was very, very tired.
He sensed, rather than heard, as they began to descend. Looking through the side windows, he watched sand and surf rise to meet them. The low thrum of the motor grumbled through his body, wakening a deep ache.
Training could only carry him so far. Even the best agent had his limitations. All the spy movies aside, no one could withstand torture without breaking. He hadn't broken, hadn't revealed any secrets, but he was failing. He knew he was functioning on borrowed time. His abdominal wall was rigid and he suspected he was bleeding internally. He needed to go to a hospital, if it wasn't already too late. Ha… Here I am planning for a future that I won't live to see…
"Here," he sighed, opening a compartment beneath the seat. "I know you don't like guns, but it's not optional here. This island doesn't have a native population. If it moves, it's an enemy and you shoot it. Got it?" He reached for a pistol, thumbing the safety and stuffing a fistful of ammo into his pocket.
At the distaste on Sydney's face, he picked up another handgun and slapped it against her palm. "Take it. Don't argue, Syd. Martial arts won't help you if you're facing ten men with an arsenal." He picked up a semi-automatic and hefted it, eyeing Nigel. He wasn't sure the kid could or would take it.
Nigel surprised him by reaching for the weapon and nodding. "I need to know how to use it."
Chuckling in spite of himself, Lloyd pointed at the trigger. "Pull that and make sure you're aiming it at a bad guy. Think you can handle that?"
"Bet on it."
"What about me?" Preston interrupted, all enthusiasm.
Lloyd weighed the pros and cons of handing a gun to another unqualified shooter. Nigel was one thing. His brother was another ball of wax. "I need someone with both hands free," Lloyd said at length. He was trying to think up something to tell the little blond girl, but she reached for a compact semi-automatic and flipped it over. This kid was no novice!
Claudia glanced up at him and shrugged. "My dad is a charter member of the NRA. I learned to shoot when I was five."
He didn't need any more convincing.
The chopper set down with a bump, and Lloyd heaved himself up, pushing the door open. "Heeere's Johnny!" he quipped grimly. "Listen, ballerinas, everybody on your toes. You can bet we've got company waiting for us."
End Part Forty-Five