TITLE: Something Lost, Something Found.

By : Aryea

Chapter 5

“So, what’s this relic that you’re after?” Sydney demanded.

            They had followed Da Viega back about a quarter of a mile to one of the few small clovers of trees, a rare sight in this area. The trees had hidden a secret tunnel of ancient caves, which they were now walking through, the soft glow of their flashlights bouncing off the hard, earth colored walls. Now and then they would pass by a skeleton who had perished either from one of the booby traps, or because the could not find their way out.

            “The man you’re after is named M,” Da Viega stated.

            “What? Like the fellow in The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen?” Preston inquired, flinching at the look Sydney tossed him; did she used to look at Nigel that way? No wonder his brother seemed so nervous half the time.

            Da Viega smirked, not the least amused. “No one knows his real name and that is what he goes by, just M.”

            “So, why did this M, take Nigel’s body and what does he have that you want?” Sydney pressed, she wasn’t in the mood for riddles, she didn’t care if this fellow’s name was Peter Pan; she had no intention of getting to know him personally.

            “M dabbles in several things, one of which is selling healthy organs on the black market, but his passion is Egyptian relics.” Da Viega paused and his arm shot out, blocking them from going further. “Hang on, this doesn’t look right.”

            Sydney glanced at the path ahead, and then down at the floor where a thick layer of dust and dirt resided.

            Preston peered over her shoulder. “What’s the problem?” he asked in a hushed voice. “Just looks to me as if no one has been through in awhile.”

            Da Viega and Sydney answered simultaneously. “Exactly.” They glared at each other.

            Preston looked even more confused. “Huh?”

            “Not as bright as the other one, is he?” Da Viega commented as he retrieved his pistol and glanced around for something to toss in their path.

            “It’s too neglected, Preston,” Sydney explained, spying a leg bone a few feet away. “Like someone wanted to hide something.”

            “What, you mean like a trap?” Preston asked as Sydney carefully tossed the bone onto the floor in front of them.

            All three jumped back as a succession of scythes swept down from the ceiling, their purpose obvious, if the first blade missed, the other two would carve you in half.

            “My God!”

            Sydney looked over her shoulder at him. He’d sounded so much like Nigel just then that she’d momentarily thought she had her assistant back.

            “That’s new,” Da Viega scowled, staring at the hanging blades. He glanced back at Sydney and waved his gun at her. “After you.”

            She gave him a look that could freeze meat and carefully moved around the sharp blades, watching as Preston cautiously followed. She glared at Da Viega as he joined them on the other side. “I thought you said no one else knew about this place?”

            “It’s been awhile since I’ve been here; they could have been discovered by M’s militia.” Da Viega holstered his weapon and moved past them. “We’ll just have to keep an eye out.” He turned back, his one good eye gazing over Sydney in an intimate appraisal. “Afraid you’re not up to the challenge without your trusty sidekick, to perform for, Sydney? Or perhaps without him holding you back you’re eager for a real test of your abilities?”

            His demeaning comments about Nigel were starting to get to her. “He was more of a man that you’ll ever be, Da Viega.”

            Da Viega raised an eyebrow in mockery. “Really?” He leered at her. “Didn’t know the old boy had it in him, well done.”

            Sydney flushed on Nigel’s behalf and Preston took a step forward, fuming.

            “Now see here…”

            Sydney touched his arm and shook her head. “Don’t waste your breath,” she muttered as they followed Da Viega. “He’s just trying to get under our skin.”

            “Well, it’s working!” Preston hissed. “How dare he speak to you that way!”

            Sydney frowned, didn’t he care what Da Viega had implied about Nigel, his own brother? She turned away; this wasn’t the place to get into a discussion of Preston’s loyalties. She caught up to Da Viega. “You were telling us about this M and the relic he wants?”

Before Da Viega could answer, however, Preston’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, startled, and whispered “Hello?”

            “Mr. Bailey? It’s Sarjha, the nurse from the hospital?”

            “Oh, hello, Sarjha, um…this isn’t a good time, I’m afraid...”

            “I only wanted to tell you that I tracked down the doctor that treated your brother and he’s here now.”

            “You did?” Preston caught Sydney’s arm. “Syd, they found the doctor that looked after Nigel. He’s on the phone now.”

            Sydney stared at him, there was little point to that now, they would hopefully find Nigel in the temple, but then something popped into her head. She glanced at Da Viega, who was further up ahead, and then whispered. “What does the doctor say?”

            Preston repeated the question, and then to Sydney said. “He claims that he just delivered the news to you, another doctor had already seen to Nigel and signed his death certificate.”

            Sydney’s eyes narrowed and she whispered. “What was that doctor’s name?”

            Preston asked the question and frowned. “Dr. Rouchell.”

            Sydney moved closer and whispered. “Ask him to describe Rouchell.”

            Preston did, his frown deepening. Finally, he thanked the doctor and hung up, as he turned to Sydney, his expression grim. “Tall, blond, had a black patch on one side of his face.”

            “Da Viega!” Sydney hissed under her breath. That bastard had taken Nigel’s body, he’d known all along where it was. She turned as the subject of their conversation approached, noticing that they had not been following.

             “Are you two coming or not?”

            Sydney shot Preston a look that warned him to keep quiet about what they had learned. “Yes, we’re coming.” She followed Da Viega, her eyes glaring daggers into his back, as her mind swept back over the events at the hospital. He’s set the whole thing up, the car bomb, Nigel’s body disappearing, all this to get her on the trail of his relic. He knew that she would never do anything for him willingly, but to kill Nigel just to…

            She couldn’t take it; her rage consumed her as she glanced around, frantic for something to give her an edge, and then it hit her. She spun suddenly, her satchel falling from her shoulder and caught Preston in the stomach with a punch so solid that he was doubled over and gasping for breath.

            Da Viega turned, annoyed. “What now?”

            Sydney cast the injured Bailey look that held both an apology and a warning, please let him understand, she prayed, as she rushed forward and caught him in the act of comforting him. “He’s asthmatic, he needs his inhaler!”

            “Then leave him.”

            “No, you promised to lead us both in and out, Da Viega,” Sydney, reminded, as Preston, trouper that he was, continued to pretend that he could not breathe; not that difficult considering the punch Sydney had delivered. What was it with her and Nigel, always using his stomach as a distraction?

            “Then where is his bloody inhaler?” Da Viega demanded, savagely.

            “In my bag, there,” Sydney pointed with her foot where her bag had dropped, just out of her reach. “Hurry!”

            Da Viega swore and bent to retrieve the bag, giving Sydney the opening she needed, and in a move so lightening quick that Preston barely saw her move, she had kicked Da Viega to the ground, knocked the gun from his hand that he had started to pull out, and retrieved her knife in a flurry of movement.

            “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t slice your throat?” she hissed, as Preston retrieved the gun and aimed it at Da Viega for added threat. Not that it was needed; Sydney was straddling him, her knife to his throat, her eyes flashing with fury.

“If you kill me, you’ll never find Nigel.” Da Viega winced as her knee dug into his chest.

            “You pretended to be his doctor, and you took his body, where is it?” Sydney pressed the knife hard enough against his throat to break the skin. “I’ll gut you like a fish and find my own way through, don’t think I can’t do it!”

            “I don’t fear death, Sydney,” Da Viega managed. “I’ve got a Gural Nataz bounty on my head, you think you scare me?” He winced as Sydney’s blade started to cut deeper and his eyes widened at the fury in her gaze; she meant to do it, she’d kill him. “All right! Yes, I took him, but not for why you think. These people, they wanted you both dead, that was why I warned you, but your bloody assistant was too damn eager to get to the car before my note got to you.”

            “Who are they? Why did they want to kill us?”

            “They’re a cult faction here in Egypt, I don’t know why they wanted you dead, I only knew that I needed you alive to help me.”

            “Why should I believe you?”

            “I warned you…”

            “Not good enough.”

            “Bailey’s alive!”

            Sydney paused in shock, aware that he was trying to distract her. It took Preston a moment to realize that Da Viega was not speaking of him, and in that moment, his heart skipped a beat; Nigel, alive?

 Da Viega sensed Sydney’s hesitation and pushed forward. “Or, he was when I saw him last. He survived the blast, Sydney.”

            Sydney grabbed him by the hair and wrenched savagely. “They told me he was dead.”

            “Yes, because I pronounced him to be, but only after another doctor, a real doctor informed me that he would live.” Da Viega winced as the blade threatened to carve a notch from his exposed throat. “I was going to take him out of there, and then secretly meet with you, but they got to him first. I was trying to save him, Sydney!”

            Sydney couldn’t dare to hope, she had just come to terms with her friend’s death and now to find out that he could be alive…Her eyes narrowed on Da Viega, he would say anything to gain an advantage over her. “I don’t believe you.”

            “Fine then, kill me, but you’ll never find Nigel and if he is alive, do you want to leave him here to die at the hands of these butchers?”

            Something Dr. Gremmel had said when they were at his home suddenly filtered into her brain; it had been nagging at her for days. “Preston, call Dr. Gremmel.”

            “What?”

            “Call him!”

            Preston quickly dialed the exchange and waited for someone to answer, he watched Sydney, warily; would she really kill this fellow? “Hello? Hello, Dr. Gremmel, it’s Preston Bailey. Yes, George then. Oh, well we…”

            Sydney glared at him for half a second; this was no time for small talk. “Ask him what he meant when he said that Nigel seemed like a nice guy.”

            Preston offered her a confused look, and then repeated the question. “What? Sorry, the connection is very bad, what was that?” He glanced at Sydney. “He said he’d talked with Nigel for a few minutes before the doctor arrived, he’d seemed confused, but not overly so, and he kept asking for you, Syd.”

            “That’s what I thought,” Sydney grimaced, despite the spark of joy that entered her heart. “They told me Nigel never regained consciousness,” she explained. They had lied, because Da Viega had told them to. He could still be lying, but she wouldn’t take that chance, the idea that Nigel could be alive was too great. She stared down at Da Viega, her hatred evident. “I should still kill you.”

He winced. “I saved your life. You would have been in that car when it blew.” He gritted his teeth. “You owe me, Sydney.”

            Sydney growled and reluctantly stood; she grabbed the gun from Preston and pulled out the magazine, before tossing the gun away. “You’re going to take me to Nigel, Da Viega, we’ll settle our debt later.” She returned her knife to her boot.

            Da Viega stood, slowly and massaged his throat, wiping at the trickle of blood that still flowed from it. “This isn’t over, Sydney. You gave me your word that you’d help me.”

            “One good lie deserves another,” she hissed.

 

Continue to chapter 6