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CHAPTER 3 Nigel glanced toward Sydney, who was sitting quietly on a straight back chair, her hands tied behind her, as an armed Henchman kept watch. Their plan had gone horribly awry when he had tried to steal the relic from Sydney, only to have several men with guns eagerly jump in before he could pretend to shoot. They escorted Sydney into the back of a car and she had little choice but to agree, or get shot for real. Nigel was immediately offered a seat in front and he accepted it. Once away from the city, they were driven to a dilapidated building where a man named Kingsmere greeted whom he believed to be Ian Worthingham as an old friend. Nigel played the part to the best of his ability, thinking it was all too easy, yet wondering what the hell was going on. He finally understood when Kingsmere mentioned that Mr. Mason would be making an appearance later and was dealing with other business. Meanwhile, they needed to wait there, until they could be sure no one noticed Sydney Fox’s disappearance. Nigel was left with three gunmen, one inside the room on the third floor, and two outside walking the interior. He tried to think of a way for Sydney to escape, without revealing their hand. Kingsmere had gone, leaving Nigel, or rather Ian in charge of their captive and the relic in Nigel’s bag. His eyes narrowed as the gunman standing guard inside moved close enough to caress Sydney’s hair, undressing her with his eyes. “Such a pretty thing.” Sydney tried to twist away from him, but could say nothing because of the gag in her mouth. Nigel felt awful for her, but tried to keep his focus on the newspaper he was pretending to read; knowing that a show of concern would be out of character for a man like Ian Worthingham. However, when the guard laughed and moved his hand to the straps of Sydney’s top, Nigel rose and racked the slide of his gun with infinite deliberation. The sound caused the man to turn and he found himself looking down the barrel of the weapon. He hadn’t even heard the Englishman move. “Watching doesn’t entail touching,” he warned. The man started to raise his weapon and Nigel adjusted his aim to the man’s head. “Are you prepared to die?” Sydney was shocked at Nigel’s show of confidence. Despite the fact that his gun contained only blanks, the threat in his voice sounded very real. The guard didn’t know that the weapon was a prop and he lowered his gun and stepped away from her. “I didn’t mean nothin’, Mr. Worthingham.” “Anything. You didn’t mean anything,” Nigel corrected with just a touch of condescension as he slowly lowered his weapon. “You’re just restless. You need a breath of fresh air to cool off, right?” The man nodded. “Then go do it.” “What about her?” “She isn’t going anywhere.” “Mr. Kingsmere said…” Nigel tilted his head as he holstered his gun, his icy gaze penetrating the guard’s worried look. “Are you suggesting that I can’t handle one, simple female tied to a chair?” “No, sir, I would never…” “Right, I understand. So go get some air.” Nigel tossed the man a few dollars. “Get a drink at that place down the street, looks like you could use one. Bring back a bottle for me.” The man offered no further argument and hurried off. Nigel waited until he was sure that the man was gone, and then slipped the gag out of Sydney’s mouth. “Are you okay, Syd?” “My arms are going numb,” she admitted almost smiling as his voice slipped out of the American accent back to his usual way of speaking. She accepted the glass of water he held to her lips and drinking thirstily. His hands were trembling and she realized he was terrified over what had just happened. “He won’t be gone long and there’s still the others at the door.” “Yeah, and Mason will probably be making an appearance soon as well. You have to get out of here.” He began to loosen her bonds. “Nigel, don’t! If you let me go, they’ll suspect you’re not who you say.” Besides, at least from here she could keep an eye on her friend. She still felt he was in over his head. “Syd, I can’t let them keep you tied up. What if Mason decides to kill you or…what if that misfit gets you alone? I can’t risk that.” “I can handle it, Nigel,” Sydney assured. “If Mason was going to kill me, I’m sure he’d have done it by now. He has something else in mind.” “That’s what worries me,” Nigel replied grimly as he continued to work at the ropes. “I’m going to re-tie you in a slip-knot, Syd. That way you can get free if you need to.” She nodded. “I can’t understand why they were even there. We knew Mason might be watching, but why would his men risk getting involved?” “Do you think we’ve been set up? That they know who we are?” Sydney considered that for a moment. “No, I think we’re still okay. Just stay alert. The transmitter is still in your ring, so Cate knows where we are. I think we should be okay. They just can’t make a move, until you’ve given the relic to Mason. They have no proof to arrest him otherwise. Nigel sighed and rose. “Fine, but if that behemoth touches you again, Syd, cover or not, I’ll rip his bloody head off.” Sydney smiled at his protectiveness. “Gee, Nige. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” “Oh shut it.” “Did I tell you those pants really look good…mmmherh!” Sydney glared at him, her eyes twinkling as he pulled the gag up over her mouth to cut off the rest of her words. He put his finger to his lips and returned to the chair to read his newspaper, just as the door opened. Nigel had ears like a bat sometimes. “Here’s your whisky, Mr. Worthingham,” the guard said, offering Nigel the bottle. “I made sure to get the brand you liked.” Nigel glanced at the bottle and something prickled his memory. The gunman was watching him very closely and that told Nigel something was wrong. He accepted the bottle, turned to read the label as if studying a rare document, then without warning, brought the bottle down against the gunman’s head. Sydney’s eyes widened and the sound of breaking glass was enough to bring the other two gunmen rushing inside to find Nigel standing over the fallen guard. “Your source is incorrect,” he stated his tone frighteningly calm. He remembered that Ian drank only Chivas Regal brand of Whiskey, at least according to Cate’s files. “I wouldn’t touch that garbage for all the crown jewels in London Tower.” The guard scrambled to his feet and put a hand to his bleeding head, obviously shaken by the attack, but suddenly obedient to the smaller Englishman. “S…sorry Mr. Worthingham. M…my mistake. I’ll get another one.” “What’s all this about?” a quiet voice demanded and everyone looked back at the tall man in a dark Armani suit standing between two larger men in trench coats at the door. Nigel visibly paled to see the man that looked so much like his father; he even had the same voice except his accent was decidedly more French. Maxwell Mason. It took him several moments to find his voice. “Just a discussion on whiskey,” he finally said, his voice betraying none of his anxiety. He tossed the remainder of the bottle off to the corner. “Glad you could finally make it.” “Well, you have something I want,” Mason advised as he stepped up and gripped Nigel by the shoulders to kiss each side of his face. “It is good to see you, again.” “And you,” Nigel returned, dutifully. He could not get over the resemblance of this man to his father. It was uncanny. “How was your drive here?” “Mundane, as usual.” Mason pulled off his gloves and coat and handed them to one of his men. He turned and smiled at Sydney. “Ahh, and you bring me extra gifts as well?” He walked around Sydney’s chair, his eyes roaming over her in slow appraisal. “This is a surprise. Sydney Fox, I presume?” Nigel’s gaze met Sydney’s concerned. He didn’t like where this was going. Mason pulled the gag out of her mouth, untying it and tossing it away, sending a scolding look to the henchmen. “Really, gentlemen. Is that anyway to treat a lady?” He smiled at Sydney. “Please forgive them, Professor, they can be brutes at times.” “I’ll try to remember to plea on their behalf when they get arrested for kidnapping,” Sydney smirked. “You’ll forgive me if it slips my mind.” “I heard you had quite the sharp tongue on you, glad to see the rumours are true.” He settled in one of the chairs and crossed one leg over the other, relaxed. “So, tell me, Professor. If you’re so fantastically unbeatable, how is it my men managed to capture you with hardly any trouble at all?” A few of the others snickered. Sydney shrugged, nonchalant. “I was feeling generous, thought I’d give them a sense of accomplishment.” She flexed her arms, though not hard enough top pull the slipknot Nigel had tied. “Now that that I’ve done my good deed, how about you return the favour and untie these ropes?” “I don’t think so.” “Oh come on. You and your men have the advantage. You have all the guns. I’m just one helpless female. What could I do?” Mason laughed. “I am not stupid, Professor. I won’t make the mistake of the Gural Nataz or your other enemies by underestimating you.” “Flattery will get you no where,” Sydney assured calmly. “Flattery is not my intent,” Mason assured and stood, suddenly bored with exchanging barbs with his captive. “The prize please?” Nigel retrieved the knapsack that contained the 16th century urn. He handed the relic to Mason and avoided looking at Sydney. Cate would not be able to make a move until Mason left with the relic, not with all the weapons the other men were carrying. Mason inspected the urn closely and finally nodded. “It will fetch a good price, indeed.” Nigel hated hearing such a thing. The idea that the precious relic would end up on the black market was horrifying. He shared Sydney’s idea that it belonged in a museum, where everyone could appreciate it. “You’ve done well, which leaves only one thing left to do.” Mason handed the relic to one of his bodyguards who returned it to the knapsack. He waved his hand and the bodyguards indicated to the other men to leave. They closed and locked the door, so that it was just Sydney, Nigel, Mason and the two men. Mason suddenly aimed his gun at Nigel, his expression grim. “So, who are you, really?” Nigel felt his stomach leap into his throat. “You know who I am.” “No, I know who you’re not, and I have from the beginning.” Nigel started to sweat as Mason removed the prop gun from his belt and tossed it on the floor. “I was going to just get you away from that café and kill you then, but then Sydney Fox arrived and I had very much wanted to meet her, so I went along with the charade to see what the two of you were after.” “I can explain…” “Yes, explain how it is you look so much like my son.” Nigel’s legs almost buckled. “Your son?” “Yes, didn’t whoever you’re working for tell you that part? Ian was my son, and a father knows his own son. This father also knows that his son is dead and that Sydney Fox is responsible.” The possibility that Ian, who looked so much like Nigel, had a father that could be the twin of Ross Bailey was inconceivable. “No! She...she wasn’t…” “How do you know?” “I was there!” Nigel reasoned, raising his hands, nervously when Mason moved closer with the gun. “It was an accident. He stepped on a snare trap. Sydney had nothing to do with it.” “Why were you there? How do you know?” Mason stepped forward and stuck Nigel across the face when he didn’t answer. Sydney was about to give up her pretence of being tied, only to have one of the bodyguards stand behind her, his gun aimed at her head. Nigel righted himself from the force of the blow. “I…I’m a relic hunter.” That much was true, he couldn’t betray Sydney. “I was after the same relic as Professor Fox, a…a lancet and Ian… He was going to kill us to get the lancet, but he stepped on a snare trap and it…killed him.” Mason hesitated but the gun he aimed at Nigel never wavered. “Why should I believe you? Why have you come here pretending to be my son?” Nigel remained silent. Too many times in the field he had realized that the truth would only get them in more trouble, he had to fake it, as usual. “I didn’t know he was your son, I…I just wanted his connections… to…to get into the business and… “Why do you look like him?” Mason screamed, furious. “Who are you? Who are you working for?” When Nigel again refused to answer, he grabbed the young man and poked the gun into his side, forcing him over to where Sydney sat. “Perhaps, you’ll tell levelled his gun at her chest. She now had two weapons aimed at her, which gave her no room to try anything. “Tell me who you are, or I kill her.” “Look…this has all been a big mistake, we can…” “More lies, fine she dies.” “No!” Nigel desperately struggled against the man holding him, when Mason started to pull the trigger; all bets were off when it came to Sydney’s life. “My name is Nigel Bailey! I’m Sydney’s assistant!” Mason stared at him and Nigel saw the man visibly pale. “Bailey?” Nigel’s eyes were glued to Sydney, his expression frantic. He nodded. “Do you…do you know who I am?” Nigel shook his head, miserably. “I don’t know anything anymore,” he admitted, his emotions were in turmoil, his brain was struggling to comprehend all that had happened and his heart was bleeding in an attempt to deny the truth. “I’m sorry I ever got involved in this whole sorted mess.” Mason stepped away from Sydney and moved to stand before Nigel. “Incredible, how is it possible?” “What?” “That you look so much like my son.” Nigel suspected why, but he was afraid to admit it. “Your mother was Sheelah Bailey?” Nigel nodded, his heart sinking at the shocked recognition in Mason’s eyes. “My…my father was Ross Bailey.” Mason gaped at him. “My God! There were two.” “Two?” Sydney watched the exchange worried. Nigel did not look well, and he was obviously struggling with disbelief and fear. She was almost free of the ropes, if she could just keep Mason’s attention turned away a few more minutes longer, but she had a very bad feeling of what the man was going to say next and she spoke up. “Mason, don’t,” she warned, knowing the TA couldn’t handle any more. Mason ignored her. “Nigel, twins run in the Bailey family…I was Ross’s twin.” Nigel started shaking his head, no longer struggling against the man that held him, if anything the goon was now his only means of remaining upright. This man was a criminal, a killer, it wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be, despite the evidence, his heart couldn’t accept it. “My father didn’t have a brother. He would have told me.” “Ross wasn’t your father, Nigel. I am, I…I had an affair with your mother and…and she got pregnant. She let me take the child as long as I promise to leave and never contact the family again. I…I thought there was only one, but there were two of you.” Nigel’s rage and disbelief suddenly consumed him and he broke free of the giant’s grip, lunging at Mason and knocking them both to the floor. “You’re lying! My mother would never have done something so monstrous! My father is dead! You are not my father!” Everything seemed to happen at once. Mason was unprepared for the attack and the gun fell from his hand. Nigel punched him, and grabbed the gun on the floor as Sydney, finally free of the ropes, took care of the two other men. Nigel was now on his feet and levelling the gun at Mason, his face twisted in anger. “You’re lying,” he hissed. “Admit it. Admit it!” “I’m not lying, Nigel,” Mason insisted as he slowly rose to his feet. “I never meant for it to happen. Your parents weren’t getting on well, your father was gone a lot…” “Stop it!” Nigel screamed. “My mother loved my father! They died together, they died!” “I’m sorry they died, but that doesn’t change that you and Ian were brothers. You are my son.” Mason didn’t seem to care that he could be shot, only that he now had another son, someone else to carry on his name. “Nigel, don’t you see, she hid you from me.” “Shut up!” “Nigel,” Sydney said, quietly, standing beside him and reaching for the gun. “Nige, give me the gun, come on.” “He’s lying! He has to be!” “You are my son, Nigel. Ross never deserved your mother, that’s why she came to me.” Sydney jumped as the gun went off and her eyes widened in shock, both that Nigel had fired and that Mason was still standing. The older man seemed just as startled, for he had been shot at point blank range, as Cate and a gang of agents burst into the villa, guns drawn. Nigel shot another round in the air, and then tossed the prop gun aside. “You’re a filthy liar,” he growled at Mason. “And I hope you rot.” He turned toward Sydney, who took his arm. Neither said a word, or needed to. She guided him out as the agents handcuffed Mason and the other two men.
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