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CHAPTER 10 Nigel awoke from his nightmare shaking, gasping and drenched in sweat. It took him a few moments to realize that he was still in Mason’s house and that caused the visions of his dream to come flooding back. He bolted from the bed and made it into the bathroom just in time to throw up. After several minutes, when he was sure there was nothing left in his stomach, he heaved himself off the floor and splashed cold water on his face. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and for a moment, all he saw was Ian Worthingam staring back, accusingly. Then the image changed and Ian was laughing at him, then Ian’s face turned brutal, showing the eyes of a killer. Nigel’s eyes. “No!” He picked up the clay soap dish and threw it at his reflection, breaking mirror into pieces. He stared at his image, split apart and jagged, like his soul was becoming. He turned away and leaned his back against the sink. “I’m not like that,” he muttered as he slid to the floor and buried his head in his hands. “I’m not like them.” He remained there for some time, sitting on the tiled floor of the bathroom, wishing himself away to somewhere safe and trying to convince himself that he did not have the genes of a killer. He was startled when a soft voice called to him. “Señor Bailey?” He shot up from the floor, startled. “M…Maria.” Maria remained in the doorway of the washroom, her expression concerned. “Are you all right, Señor?” Nigel ran a hand over his face. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” He realized from the amount of light behind her that the sun had risen. How long had he been sitting in the bathroom? It was still dark out when he first woke up. “Señor Mason requested that I call you for breakfast.” She paused and regarded the broken mirror. She moved forward, alarmed. “You’ve cut yourself!” Nigel glanced down and realized that he had picked up one of the shards from the mirror and had been squeezing it in his palm, causing a line of blood to form across the sliced skin. “Oh.” He paused, startled, dropped the shard in the sink, and then grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it around his hand. “It’s fine.” “It needs to be cleaned,” Maria insisted and grabbed his hand to hold it under the cold water. “Keep it there.” She moved behind him and retrieved a small first aid box that was above the towel cupboard. “It’s not bad, really,” Nigel assured and was ignored as Maria wiped it with a disinfectant wipe and then applied a butterfly bandage to his palm. “Gracias, Maria.” “I will tell Señor Mason you are not well?” “No, no I’m fine.” Nigel turned back to the sink and started to clear away the rest of the broken mirror. Maria brushed him away. “I will do that. You go and dress.” Nigel wasn’t in the mood to argue. He returned to his bedroom and noticed that his clothes had been washed, pressed and placed in the wardrobe. He selected these, rather than wear Ian’s clothes again. He was dressed by the time that Maria exited the bathroom, a wastebasket full of broken mirror. “I will have the mirror replaced, Señor.” “Don’t bother,” he muttered. “I prefer it gone.” “I will bring your breakfast here?” “No, could you bring it to Señorita Fox’s room? I’m having breakfast in there.” “Señor Mason will not like that.” “I don’t care. I get to decide when I spend my hour with Sydney, and I’m having breakfast with her Maria’s eyes flashed with something that looked like envy, then she nodded and quickly left the room. Nigel flexed his injured hand and sighed. How was he going to get he and Sydney out of this mess, when he could barely keep control of himself? He ran a hand through his hair and returned to the bathroom to freshen up. He collected the books he had retrieved from Mason’s library and then headed to Sydney’s room. “Is she awake?” he asked the guard, stationed outside the door. The Mexican grunted and unlocked the door to allow Nigel inside. Sydney was doing push ups on the floor in her shorts and tank top. She immediately hopped up and moved across the room to greet him. “Hey, my morning just got bett…” She paused as she noticed the bandage on his hand. “What did you do?” “Had a fight with a bathroom mirror.” “Who won?” “It was a tie.” Sydney grinned. “You’re getting better then.” “Funny.” He handed her the small stack of books. “Thought you might like some of these to pass away the time.” Sydney accepted the books and glanced through them. “Is there a hacksaw or grenade hidden in one of them?” “Afraid not, sorry.” Sydney tossed the books on the bed. “I’ll read them later then.” She took a closer look at him and frowned. “You’re awfully pale this morning, you feeling okay?” “I…didn’t sleep well.” “No doubt,” she agreed as she propped her leg up on the high mattress of the bed and stretched out. “Any chance of calling Cate yet?” “Well, from what I can see, there are no landlines here, just cellular phones and radio mikes that the guards and Mason carry.” He sighed and dropped onto the bed. “Also, the whole place is equipped with cameras, so if I tried to make a call, Mason would know it.” He grimaced. “He knew I was in here yesterday.” “I figured out the surveillance,” she admitted, pointing to the camera she found in her room. “I’ve already given them the finger twice this morning. Room’s clean of bugs though, so they can see but they can’t hear.” Nigel smirked at her defiance and watched her bend low from the waist and kick her legs up in the air. He immediately rose and caught her legs so she could do the handstand that rushed all the blood to her head and, for some odd reason, was a form of relaxation for Sydney. “I thought you were going to be good?” he reminded as he held her ankles. “I was good, I didn’t moon them.” He laughed and it felt blissfully good after his horrible night. The door opened and Maria wheeled in a breakfast cart. She was startled at finding Sydney upside down, but a moment later Nigel released his friend’s legs and Sydney gracefully dropped her feet to the floor and straightened upright. “Wow, room service,” she commented, impressed. “I figured I was only entitled to bread and water through the door.” “Perdon, señorita?” Nigel smiled at the young woman. “Pay no attention to her, Maria, she’s grumpy without her morning coffee.” Maria smiled, shyly, rolled the cart over to the small table in the corner, and started to set out their food of, a mixed fruit plate, with bananas, mangoes and papaya along with a dish of scrambled eggs and ham with chopped tomato, onion and chillies. “I did not know what you would prefer,” she admitted. “So I selected the Plato de Frutas and some Huevos a la Mexicana.” She quickly poured up a cup of coffee from the silver tea service and handed the cup to Sydney. “The coffee is very good here, you like sugar or cream?” “Black is fine, thanks,” Sydney returned and settled at the table, opposite Nigel. “If you would like something different, I can bring that for you.” “This is perfect, Maria. Gracias.” Maria flushed and gave a quick curtsy. “You are most welcome.” She set the coffee pot in the centre of the table and backed away. “Enjoy.” Sydney watched the girl leave and the guard close and lock the door again. “She’s nice.” “Yes, and yes I am already considering how to use that.” Nigel waved a finger at Sydney. “We have to careful, Syd. She’s a sweet girl and I don’t want to get her killed.” Sydney nodded and dug into her eggs. “I don’t want us to get killed either, Nigel.” “I know. I’ll find a way, okay?” “Maybe I should just try to get out of here? The gronk outside seems to like me, I can try and…” “NO!” Nigel immediately averted his eyes, seeing that he had shocked Sydney with his outburst. “Please, Syd. You don’t know what he said he’d do if you…” He lifted his gaze to hers again. “If you get caught…it would be horrible. I couldn’t live with it.” Sydney frowned and stopped eating. “What did he tell you, Nigel?” “Just, promise me you won’t try anything.” “Nigel, we can’t stay here. Mason is a nutcase for one and second, I’m not liking the whole caged pigeon thing.” “I know. Just, one more day. Give me one more day to figure something out, okay?” Sydney reached across the table for his hand. “What did he tell you?” Nigel shook his head and looked down at his food. “You know it’s just a threat, Nige. We’ve had people threaten us before and…” “This is different. Mason doesn’t bluff, Syd. That much I do know.” He seemed so afraid for her, yet she couldn’t imagine what Mason had said to frighten him so much. “Okay, Nigel,” she agreed quietly. “One more day.” Nigel nodded and glanced at his watch. “I have to eat quickly, I only want to stay thirty minutes, so that I can come back later this evening. I only get an hour a day with you.” Sydney nodded and continued to eat and tried to ignore the unsettling sense of foreboding. Nigel finally headed downstairs and was told by Ricardo that Mason was in the garden and Nigel was to go there, immediately. Nigel saluted the guard with a stiff raise of his hand and a click of his heels. “Sieg Heil!” Ricardo’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but he remained silent, as he watched Nigel walk out into the garden. “There you are!” Max greeted cheerfully from his chair under a large umbrella. He raised his glass. “Come, sit. It is a lovely day, isn’t it?” Nigel settled at the shaded table. “It’s hot as blazes.” “Yes, well, welcome to Mexico.” He snapped his fingers and a Pedro appeared. “Bring another glass of iced tea.” Pedro nodded and hurried off. “Now, how was your breakfast?” “It was fine.” “And is Professor Fox managing well?” “She hates being cooped up.” “Ah, well, if I didn’t think she’d run the first chance she got, I’d let you take her out for a walk.” Nigel spun towards him, angry. “She’s not a bloody retriever, she’s a person and she doesn’t deserve to be held captive.” “Well, what can you expect of me, Nigel?” Max demanded. “I’ve explained my concerns. I would be willing to let her out, if you had her word that she would not try to run or to contact the authorities.” He pointed at Nigel. “I would not trust her promise to me, but she would not break her word to you, would she?” Nigel refused to answer and looked out over the pool. “Would she, Nigel?” “I wouldn’t ask her to give me her word on something I know she doesn’t want to do.” Max chuckled and sipped his iced tea as Pedro returned with a glass for Nigel. “Why doesn’t that surprise me.” He clapped his hands together. “Ah well, enough about that spiteful woman. How did you sleep?” “Fine.” “Really?” Max contemplated that as he lit a cigar. “What did you do to your hand?” “I cut it.” “On Professor Fox’s tongue, no doubt.” Nigel ignored him and Max just smiled again. “Why not go for a swim? The day is only going to get hotter.” “I don’t care for swimming.” “Nor do I, I have an inner ear problem that fusses up whenever I’m submerged in water,” Max stated calmly. “But my guests like to have a pool and so do my staff. It’s refreshing for these hot days.” Nigel tried not to show his surprise that he shared an affliction with Mason. “How…how long have you had your ear trouble?” “All my life. It’s hereditary, I believe.” Nigel grabbed his glass and took a long swallow of iced tea. He wanted to have nothing in common with this man. “What would you like to do today?” Max asked. “You mean, besides get Sydney released and get the hell away from you?” Nigel retorted. “Not much.” Max pulled a large photo album towards him. “I dug this out of my closet, I thought you might like to have a look.” Nigel accepted the book, warily. “What’s in it?” “Just some old photo’s,” Max assured. “There are some of your mother when she was very young.” He smiled and stared off into space for a moment. “She truly was a beautiful woman.” When Nigel hesitated, Max prompted him further. “Go ahead, open it. There will be nothing alarming in there, I promise you.” Nigel slowly pulled the cover open and glanced over the first page. Several old black and white photos of people he didn’t recognize. “That one on the top left, that was your great grandfather, Joseph Bailey. He started one of the first automated dairies in London.” Nigel leaned closer, wishing he had his glasses with him, but they were all the way up in his room. “Is this…?” he began leaning closer to see the picture of a pilot in WWI fighter plane. “Is this an AVRO 540?” Max beamed at him. “Yes it is, your great grandfather flew it, during the war. You know your war crafts?” Nigel nodded and turned the page to find a picture of Joseph Bailey standing next to the plane. “Look at that,” he shook his head, impressed. “What a beautiful machine. I never knew we had any war veterans in our family.” “You never heard the stories about Old Crazy Joe?” Nigel glanced at him. “Dad…” He paused and looked back at the photos. “We never discussed family history much, at home.” “Ah,” Max scowled and examined his cigar. “Ross didn’t get on well with our father, so he probably didn’t want you asking questions.” “Grandfather died when I was only four, I never really knew him.” “That’s a shame. Our father was a bastard, but Papa Joe?” Max chuckled and puffed on his cigar. “There was a man to be remembered.” Nigel tried not to show any further interest, but he’d always wondered about his family’s history. His father never spoke of anyone outside of a few cousins, and always acted like he’d been an only child, he certainly never mentioned a brother. His mother had been an only child of an only child and an only child, whose parents died when she was very young still. Her family was that which she had made with her husband. “Do you know that Crazy Joe single-handedly took out thirteen kamikaze fighters, after his entire squad was shot down over the Sea of Japan?” Nigel’s eyes widened. “Thirteen? On his own?” “And with no weapons left after taking out five of them.” “How the devil did he do that?” Max sat forward, grinning. “He used his plane.” Max made some collision motions. “The man could out fly an eagle at sunrise. He’d fly in close and tip their wings with his wings, with just enough momentum to send the other plane out of orbit and smashing into another. Some he would fly so close between them that they’d collide and God knows how else he managed, but he did it.” “That’s amazing,” Nigel remarked as he turned his attention back to the book. His great grandfather was a war hero. Max suddenly rose. “Come with me, I’ll show you something.” Nigel rose and followed him down the path and out of the garden to the buildings in the back. Max waved away the guards and they entered a large grey bunker. A long white tarp was hanging over something gigantic, and Max pulled it off to reveal the warplane beneath. An AVRO 540, in perfect condition. “This…is this Joe’s plane?” “No, that was destroyed a long time ago, but I bought this one from a fellow in Italy who was a bit of a collector.” Nigel walked up to the Zeppelin interceptor and fighter plane. He reverently touched the shell of the aircraft. “This is fantastic!” He walked beneath the plane, examined the landing gear and the markings. “Are the parts original?” Max chuckled. “They’d better be, for what I paid for them. It has been repainted and some of the circuits are modern, but the rest is the original plane.” “I used to build model airplanes, when I was younger,” Nigel said, his excitement getting away from him. He’d never been this close to a real warplane outside of a museum. He paused at the propeller. “Brilliant. Who would think it would stay up with just the one, considering the planes we have now?” Max seemed to enjoy Nigel’s enthusiasm. “Well, these were built for one, not five hundred.” He stepped up to him. “You want to go for a ride?” He pointed up wards. “Up in the wild blue yonder?” Nigel’s eyes widened. “It flies?” “Perfectly.” Nigel paused, suddenly remembering their situation. This man wasn’t some long lost uncle with a piece of history sitting in his garage; he was Mason, a murderer and a thief. “I…I probably…” He stepped away from the plane, ashamed for allowing himself to get so involved. How could he forget the things Mason had threatened to do to Sydney? “No. Thank you.” Max scowled, disappointed. “Perhaps later?” Nigel shrugged and turned back to the house.
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