CHAPTER 13

Sydney hit the ground running, detached herself from her chute and frantically searched for Nigel in the darkness. She was grateful for the full moon hovering over the sky of Mexico, because it had allowed her to see Nigel drift west towards a huge cornfield on their way down. She really hoped he didn’t land inside the field or she might never find him again.

She spotted him about ten yards outside of the corn, struggling to escape the netting and cloth of the parachute that encompassed him. She shook her head and hurried to help. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not bloody okay!” he snapped, frustrated as he shoved the last of the fabric away from him and glared up at her. “I’ve just been jettisoned from an airplane at twenty thousand feet! Who would be okay with that? If men were meant to fly they would have been born with wings, Sydney!”

Sydney stared down at him and tried not to be amused. “Are you done?”

“Not even close,” he growled as she helped him to his feet.

“You’ve survived much worse.”

“Surviving doesn’t make…” He cried out as he put his weight on his foot and it painfully crumpled beneath him, almost pulling Sydney down with him. He swore as he examined his injury. He’d felt something snap when he’d hit the ground, but he had hoped it was only his pride.

“What is it?” Sydney demanded.

“I don’t believe this!” He had injured the same ankle he had broken almost two years ago, when they were trying to return the Devil Doll to its chamber.

“It’s broken?” Sydney winced and he nodded. Well, she sighed at least he wasn’t sitting in poison ivy. She helped him up again. “Fast hobble at best?”

“I’m sorry, Syd,” he groaned as he slid his arm around her shoulder.

Sydney couldn’t blame him, she knew better than to put him into a situation that frightened him so much. Skydiving was probably one of the most stressful things Nigel had been forced to do, it scared the daylights out of him and wrecked his already precarious sense of balance. “Come on, they’ll find us soon.”

“Where are we going?” His eyes widened as he stared at the tall stalks of corn. “Syd, we’re not going in there?”

“No other choice, Nigel.” She helped him into the field, the moonlight that hovered overhead, reflected against the stalks that surrounded them, luminescent in some spots and pitch black in others.

Rows upon rows of corn that were taller than their heads lay before then and, for a moment, Sydney was intimidated, but then she started forward. She had a good sense of direction, she was sure they could get to the other side and the corn would be a good place to hide from Mason’s men.

“This place gives me the crepes,” Nigel muttered as tried to keep up, but even with her supporting arm, it was just two painful. The ground inside the field was uneven and the corn stalks seemed bent on attacking them as they tried to plough through. “I can’t!” he finally gasped and dropped down. “Syd, I can’t.”

Sydney crouched next to him, she could hear the roar of vehicle engines headed their way. “Nigel, you have to. Get up!”

Nigel knew that they would never be able to get away quickly enough, he was only holding her back. He pulled the cell phone that Maria had given him out of his pocket and offered it to her. “Get going,” he insisted. “I called Cate, she should be on her way. Call and meet up with her…”

Sydney ignored the phone as the sound of shouting men and vehicle doors slamming echoed across the air. “We don’t have time for this, now get up!”

“Syd, there isn’t time…”

“I’m not leaving you here, Nigel,” Sydney hissed and pulled him up again. “Now, come on and move.”

He gripped her shoulders, balancing on one leg. “He won’t hurt me, Syd. The only hold he has over me is you. If you’re removed from the equation, I can walk away.”

“You can’t walk anywhere!”

“You know what I mean!” He shoved the phone into her hand and wrapped her fingers around it. “Syd, please, for once, stop trying to be a martyr and get the hell out of here!”

Sydney shook her head. She couldn’t leave him, she wouldn’t. She knew he was making sense and that she was more of a hindrance to Nigel, because Mason was using her to keep him in line, but the idea of leaving him at the mercy of a man that was both ruthless and insane scared the hell out of her. What was even more frightening was that Nigel wanted her to leave.

He’d always looked to her to her for support and depended on her to keep him safe. Now he was turning her away. She didn’t know where was getting this new, strength, this sense of noble sacrifice, but she didn’t like it one bit. She could see he was afraid, out of his element and desperate. How could he ask her to leave him? Why would he?

“Go! Get to Cate. Tell her where Mason is. It’s the only chance we have!”

“I won’t!”

They could hear Mason’s men entering the field and Nigel hugged her, hard. “I don’t want you to go,” he admitted. “I’m scared for you, scared for both of us, but you have to, Syd. It’s our only chance. You can get Cate and return with an army.” He growled at her hesitation. “If they catch you, it will start all over again. Please, if you have any decency in you, if our friendship means anything at all, don’t put me through that again. I’m begging you, just this once, admit defeat and run.” He pulled back and stared at her. “You know I’m right.”

“That’s low,” she muttered, furious he would use their friendship to manipulate her. “You know I care…”

“Then go…please!” Nigel was terrified the men were going to find them at any moment and he didn’t want to consider what Mason would allow the ruffians to do to Sydney.

Sydney paused for only a second longer, then hugged him again. “I’ll come for you,” she vowed, and then disappeared into the corn.

Nigel sagged with relief, and allowed himself to drop back to the ground. “I know you will,” he whispered. He had no doubt she would risk everything to return to him, he only hoped that single-minded determination would not land them both in a worse situation.

He could hear, rather than see the corn stalks rustling around him, and while he was reasonably sure it was Mason’s men, it still freaked him out. There was something about this field, something ominous that caused the hair at the back of his neck to stand at attention. The moonlight caused several areas of the field to glow with an ethereal, unnatural radiance and it reminded him of far too many horror films.

He was startled by a sound directly behind him. Was that a growl? Were there animals in the field? He supposed there might be one or two, foraging for food. He spun around as something snapped in front of him and he felt his heart rate increase. Suddenly, he wanted to be found, he didn’t care if it was by Mason’s men, or a nighttime farmer, he just wanted out of this field.

Another sound, an unnatural moan filtered towards him. “Syd,” he whimpered, trying to remain calm. Come back, Syd, his heart cried. Come back! He didn’t want to be alone in this fearsome place. He jumped and almost screamed as something brushed against his hand and he scrambled to his feet, uncaring about his injury. He squinted in the darkness, searching for whatever had touched him, but he could see nothing.

He turned his head slowly in every direction, searching for something, someone that could be making the noises he was hearing. Another low moan came from just ahead of him and he half hopped half limped towards it. “Syd?” he whispered. Had she come back, or gotten hurt on her way? “Syd, is that you?”

A loud rustling behind him caused him spin around again, and this time he lost his shaky balance and fell to the ground. He glared up as three of Mason’s goons illuminated him with their flashlights. Thank God! “Oh, there you are,” he mocked, using his wit to calm himself. “I must say, you made excellent time. I’m recommending you all as behemoth of the year in Gorilla Weekly.”

The shortest of the three stepped forward and lifted his automatic rifle, as if he wanted to strike Nigel, but Hector, the man that had been posted to guard Sydney’s room, placed a restraining hand on his comrades arm. He issued a warning in Spanish, perhaps not realizing that Nigel spoke the language, and reminded the gunman about Ricardo. Nigel understood what Hector was saying and felt both relief and guilt at the comment.

Max appeared, with three other men. “Find the woman,” he ordered and five of them hurried off as the sixth stayed behind. Max stared down at Nigel, frowning. “Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Don’t play with me, Nigel. I am very angry.”

Nigel shrugged and tried to swallow the lump of fear that rose inside of him. Had he finally crossed the line with his biological father, would Mason decide to cut his losses and have him killed, as he had killed Ricardo?

“It is of no matter,” Max decided. “They will find her, and then you will be very sorry.” When Nigel remained silent, he scowled. “Why are you just lying there?”

“I’m comfortable.”

Max held out his hand and Nigel was forced to accept it. He noticed the younger man’s grimace of pain and how Nigel favoured his right leg. “What have you done?”

“I seem to have broken my ankle.”

“You seem to have broken my plane,” Max reminded. “It’s in pieces three miles back.” He paused and slid his arm around Nigel’s waist in support. “I thought you would be in pieces with it.”

Nigel ignored the sudden show of concern. “Yes, shame about that, the plane I mean, but if your apes hadn’t shot up the fuel tank she would have had a much smoother flight.”

Max continued to stare at Nigel for a long moment, and then said. “I’m very disappointed in you, Son. I showed you that plane as a part of your heritage.”

Nigel was genuinely sorry for the loss of such a treasured artefact, but he refused to feel guilty about using it to escape. It had been their only option.

“You broke your word to me,” Max continued.

“I most certainly did not!”

“You promised me Professor Fox would not try to escape!”

Nigel nodded. “Yes. I did.” His eyes narrowed and he glanced at his watch, which showed a little after 2 AM. “That was yesterday, not today. I made no such promise for today.”

Max started forward, moving out of the field and helping Nigel on the way. “Regardless of how you twist it, you lied to me. I don’t like being lied to, Nigel.”

“What’s good for the goose is bad for the gander, is that it? Do as I say not as I do?” Nigel huffed as they exited the cornfield and headed for the jeeps. “Sorry if I find your paternal skills lacking.”

“You know what you did was wrong,” Max insisted as he eased Nigel into the back seat of one of the jeeps, with the help of the driver that had remained behind.

“What then, I’m to go to bed without any supper?” Nigel was suddenly so furious at Mason, so incredibly fed up with everything that he lost his temper. “Spare me the fatherly outrage, I’ve no interest in what you say or think.” He jumped at the sound of machinegun fire. A shriek carried across the air. He looked towards the field, anxiously, and said a prayer that Sydney was safe.

A moment later, Hector and the smaller Mexican bolted out of the corn. Their skin was almost transparent in the moonlight, they’re breathing erratic.

“Where is she?” Max demanded.

Hector shook his head and tried to catch his breath, the giant was actually shaking. “We…we could not find her, Sir.”

“Where are the others?”

“They disappeared!” Jose, the smaller man cried, a level of fear had risen in his voice. “We split up to find the woman. Maurice, Martino and myself, went north through the corn, Hector and Eli went south.” He shook his head and made the sign of the cross over himself. “Martino and Maurice were behind me, Señor, and they just disappeared! First Martino, then Maurice. There was no movement, no sound, they were just gone.”

Hector nodded. “The same thing happened with Eli,” he insisted, frightened. One minute he was beside me, then he was not.” He shook his head and shivered. “We heard the scream, did you hear the scream? We ran when we heard it, it…it didn’t sound human.”

“It is the corn, Señor,” Jose insisted. “It is an unholy place. They say it is built over an ancient Aztec ritual site. There are demons in the corn!”

Max swore at them. “I have no patience for idiotic bedtime stories thought up to frighten young children,” he snapped. “Professor Fox is one woman, she is unarmed and running around in the dark. You have torches and guns, find her!”

“Señor.” Hector stepped forward. “We need more men, the field goes on for miles, and it will take time to search...”

“Miles?” Max repeated. He shook his head. “Fine.” He tossed Hector a gold lighter as he climbed into the front seat of the jeep. “Light it.”

Hector and Jose’s eyes widened in shock.

Nigel sat forward. “You can’t!”

“I will not waste anymore time on this.” He nodded to the two Mexicans. “Do it.”

“Max, don’t!” Nigel tried to scramble out of the jeep and was immediately pulled back by the gunman who had climbed in beside him. “Your own men are in there, for God’s sake.”

“If they can’t handle one woman, they’re useless to me, anyway.” He looked at Hector who finally recovered from his shock and went to do as he was ordered. He snapped off two cornstalks, lit them, and then the two men walked along the front of the field, lighting it on fire.

“NO!” Nigel struggled against the man holding him and tried not to vomit as a horribly familiar smell permeated his nostrils. Reminiscent of another kind of evil, the Aztec Devil Doll, the scent of burnt corn signified death. He watched as the flames engulfed the field in a matter of minutes. “No,” he whispered knowing the chance of Sydney escaping the flames or the smoke in time was almost non-existent.

“I had to do it, Son,” Max stated as he nodded to the driver to head back to the villa. “I warned you, I couldn’t have her running to the police.”

Nigel turned in his seat, his eyes locked on the burning fields in horror and disbelief. Even when they were out of sight of the field, that horrible smell still tormented him. He felt his eyes flood with tears. He wanted to hold out hope that Sydney had gotten free, before the fire had been set, but his mind reasoned that it wasn’t possible. She was good, the best, but she wasn’t superwoman. She couldn’t have navigated the cornfield in such a short amount of time, especially if it went on for miles.

It was all his fault. He never should have sent her away, never should have let her leave his sight. He faced forward and hung his head in his hands, grief-stricken at the loss of the person that was everything to him. This entire scenario had been bad from the start. He never should have agreed to help Cate, never should have gone after Mason to get his questions answered. He should have told Sydney…He swallowed hard and shook his head, tormented. He should have told her everything.

He blinked away his tears and glanced up at Mason, sitting in the front seat. His biological father, the man who tried to destroy his family and was the very cause for Nigel to doubt his own identity. A man that had succeeded, where so many others had failed, robbing Nigel of the only good thing in his life, Sydney Fox.

Mason was a monster, the antichrist, and Nigel felt stupid for having allowed himself to feel even the smallest amount of compassion for him. How could he have believed there was any good in a man so hollow and ruthless? Sorrow, despair, disgust and finally rage surged through him. He sat forward, ignoring the pain in his ankle and leaned close to Mason’s ear. “You’re dead,” he whispered with a coldness that he felt all the way through his body.

Max turned in his seat to look at Nigel, startled. Nigel sat back, his gaze locked on Max, his eyes burning with a promise that caused the older man to blink in a second of fear. Max faced forward and remained silent for the rest of the journey back to the villa.

Nigel was returned to his assigned bedroom at the villa, allowed Dr. Ramon to wrap his ankle and attach a splint, but refused the painkillers the doctor offered. As tempting as it was to take the pills and fall into a relaxed, mentally fuzzy state that would help shut out his physical and emotional pain, he wanted a clear head to deal with Mason.

The minute the physician left, Nigel tried to push away the horrifying scene and smells of the burning field, he forced himself to push aside his despair and search his heart or any sign that Sydney was still alive. He closed his eyes tight and breathed deep. He had to be calm, he had to be still and focused. His eyes filled with tears again as the image of Sydney hugging him, promising to return for him, filtered through his mind.

“No,” he denied, wiped at his eyes and closed them again, determined. He wouldn’t despair; he wouldn’t allow his grief to interfere. He had done it before, when he was worried about her, when he had been close to losing her. During those times, when she had been kidnapped by a deranged cult leader, or when Tslarlov had claimed she was dead, even when she was trapped by rebels in a Gomoran Temple and the government had given her up for dead, Nigel could still feel her, in that place deep in his heart.

He didn’t know what it was or where it came from, but somehow their connection was beyond the physical, beyond the emotional. It filtered through his very soul. “Be there,” he pleaded, desperately as he tried to push back the feelings of remorse and anguish that threatened to consume him. He had to be calm. He had to be still.

Nigel

He gasped and his eyes flew open. She was alive. He could feel it. Sydney was alive! He clapped his hands together and bowed his head, trembling with relief. Logic dictated that he was in denial, reaching for something that wasn’t there because he was afraid to face the truth, but it didn’t matter. That tiny feeling, way down deep inside had fluttered, and then blossomed into Sydney’s own voice. It was real and it gave him something to hope for.

Maria entered the room and fussed over him, plumping his bed pillows so that he could sit up more comfortably, and she tried to get him to eat something, but he refused. She appeared pleased, but regretful to have him back.

Mason entered the room. “Leave us,” he ordered and Maria quickly obeyed. Max closed the door and pulled a chair up to Nigel’s bed. He sat down and regarded Nigel, curiously. “How do you feel?”

Nigel didn’t respond, but he held Max’s gaze, defiantly.

“Doctor Ramon informed me that you refused to take any medication for the pain. Why? It must hurt very much.”

Nigel crossed his arms over his chest and continued to stare at him.

Max appeared torn between annoyance and appreciation at Nigel’s bravado. “I had to do it, Son. I warned you, I couldn’t have her running to the police.” He sighed. “It is as much your fault, you should not have tried to escape. I asked only for a few days, Nigel, a mere pittance of your young life, to allow a father to know his son. What was so horrible about that?”

“You threatened to kill her,” Nigel reminded, breaking his silence. “You would have allowed your men to brutalize her. I would have done anything to get her away from you, anything to keep you from her.”

Max shook his head, astounded. “I could have you killed for all that you have done, do you know that?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not afraid?”

“Of course I am.”

“Then why won’t you defend yourself?” Max snapped, rising to pace in front of the window. “Do you have any idea how it looks to have my own child disrespect me in such a way?”

“Do you know how it feels to have the blood of a monster running through your veins?” Nigel retorted, his voice dangerously quiet. “Do you think I give a damn about your bloody cartel of thieves and murderers and how they look at you? Respect is earned, not given. You have earned nothing from me, nothing but the promise I made when you burned that cornfield.”

Max sat down on the bed, facing him. “You want to kill me?” He smirked and shook his head. “No, Nigel. You don’t have it in you to be a killer.”

Nigel stared at him. He’d killed before, a voodoo priest and a desperate, diseased relic hunter, but they had died by his hand. Granted, one of them had been accidental and the other just plain desperation, but the common theme was that Sydney’s life had been hanging in the balance. Would he kill Mason to save Sydney’s life? Yes and without hesitation. Would he kill Mason in retribution for Sydney’s death?

His hand suddenly shot forward and gripped Mason’s throat, surprising the older man. “Try me.”

Max managed to knock Nigel’s hand away and stumbled off the bed, but not before Nigel’s fingers had made a nice impression around his throat. He coughed and stared at Nigel, shocked.

“I’m a man of my word, Max,” Nigel stated, malevolently. “Like father, like son.”

“So it seems,” Max croaked as the door opened and Dr. Ramon appeared, with Hector beside him. “I look forward to finding out how alike we are.” He rubbed is throat. “I’ve decided that it’s better if we leave now, rather than take the chance of any further unexpected things happening.”

“We?” Nigel repeated, suspiciously.

“You don’t think I would leave you behind, do you?”

“You don’t really think I’m going to go with you, do you?”

“You’re injured. There is the wonderful clinic, where we are going, and they will have you patched up in no time.”

“It’s just a snapped ankle!” Nigel insisted. “I am not going anywhere with you. Not now, not ever!”

“Yes, son, you are.” Max nodded at the two men and they moved forward.

Nigel spotted the syringe in the doctor’s head and tried to escape, but the minute his injured leg hit the floor, he went down. They were on him in seconds, holding him down. “NO! No way! Leave me the hell alone!”

“Don’t struggle, it will only get you hurt,” Max insisted.

“You bastard! Don’t you…” Nigel winced as the needle pricked his arm. He changed tactics and stared at Max, betrayed. “Don’t do this. Max, please…I can’t…” He could feel his limbs growing heavy, his brain softening into a relaxing, numbing mist. His eyes started to close and he could no longer struggle. “Don’t…Syd…” He barely felt himself being lifted back onto the bed as the darkness claimed him.

Max stood over the unconscious Englishman and gently ran his fingers through Nigel’s hair. “How long will he be out?” he asked the doctor.

“Several hours, at least.”

“Will he dream?”

“I…probably not. The sedative will put him into a very deep sleep.” Ramon tilted his head, curious. “Why?”

Max continued to caress Nigel’s hair. “He has nightmares. I want him to sleep, undisturbed.”

“Are you sure you want to do this, Max? Why don’t you cut your losses and make a clean break, that’s your usual way.”

“He’s my son.”

“He doesn’t want you for a father. You can’t force him and…” Ramon paused. “He’s not Ian, Max.”

Max glared at him, then back at Nigel. Finally, he turned away. “Ready the chopper, we leave in an hour.”

“And Nigel?”

Max turned and levelled his coldest gaze at the doctor. “He’s my son, Rick.”

Dr. Ramon sighed and nodded.

 

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