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CHAPTER 7 Nigel awoke early the next morning and was confused for a moment about where he was. He turned sideways and stared at Sydney, sleeping beside him. He hadn’t wanted her to come, but she was like a bloodhound when it came to him. Usually, that was a good thing, this time it wasn’t. He’d listened to all the messages she had left him on his cell phone over the last week, but hadn’t the heart to return them. He couldn’t take the chance that she would answer and hearing her voice would make him weak, as having her with him last night proved. He loved her, she was his very best friend and a beloved mentor, but she couldn’t fight his battles forever, and she couldn’t protect him from this. Everything changed when he received that one message from Cate and he had very little time left to accomplish what he’d set out to do. He rose slowly, reluctant to leave her side, knowing that he might have destroyed their friendship forever, with his lie. He quickly dressed, gathered his things, and then retrieved the lancet from where he had hidden it above the curtain rod. Sydney hadn’t found it, which surprised him. He’d used the one skill he had always excelled at, his ability to research, to find out anything and everything about Mason and Ian from the last decade. Cate’s file had some interesting information, but it was more to do with their legal activities than where the pair actually originated. It had been ridiculously easy to break into London’s birth and death archives, as well as the records to the hospital where he and Preston had been born. Mason’s French accent was good, but Nigel could tell the difference between a real accent and a fake one. The key was Ian. He’d heard his twin speak and the man had definitely been brought up in America. He also had to have some knowledge if not a degree in history to have figured out where the lancet was. He had militia training, he could obviously handle a gun, if not a hidden snare trap, and according to Interpol, Ian had a taste for a specific and very expensive whisky. He guessed that Mason had sent his son to the best schools, as well as surrounded the young man with rich associates, even if they were all murderers and thieves. Ian’s tastes were expensive; he had to get that flavour from somewhere. Nigel searched schools and universities for the top history or ancient studies programs. He narrowed those down to three. He suspected that Mason would want to keep a close eye on his son, but if he had been on the wrong side of the law, surely he would have trouble with staying too long in one place or setting up shop in places that were very hard on crime lords, such as Europe and the States. Logic dictated that Mason would want to be somewhere Ian could visit easily, without putting himself in danger. As Nigel hadn’t detected any kind of southern accent from Ian, he deduced that the man went to school at the university of San Diego, which happened to be one of the top three schools for learning ancient civilizations. The city bordered Mexico, where Mason could sit pretty and avoid arrest. It no doubt was a good place for him to make criminal contacts and it suggested where Ian might have gotten his militia training. That information had brought him here, to Mexico City, where Sydney unfortunately followed. He set the lancet beside Sydney’s case and wrote a quick note, which he placed on the bed beside her. He kept worrying she would wake up, afraid she would sense his deception, even in her sleep, but she slept on. She must have been exhausted. He paused to look down at her, and against his better judgment, he bent to kiss her forehead. He watched as she smiled in her sleep and his heart ached. “Forgive me, Syd,” he whispered as he opened the motel room door and slipped out. He stopped at Sydney’s rental car and pulled open the hood. “I know you’ll thrash me for this,” he muttered as he pulled at the ignition coils and removed the carburetor from the engine. “But I can’t have you following me.” He tossed the items into the nearby woods, where Sydney could find them if she looked, but it would take her time to reassemble the engine. The first rule in any battle was to sabotage your opponent, Sydney had taught him that, and he had learned the best way to keep someone from following was to muck up the vehicle they were driving. He hated using the skills she taught him against her, but it was for her own good. He hurried to his own car, tossed his bags inside and climbed behind the wheel. He paused and glanced back at the motel where Sydney was sleeping. Doubt crept in and tried to settle in his heart. Doubt about whether he could handle this alone, doubt that he should leave Sydney, for any reason. Grimly, he spurned the engine and drove off. Sydney awoke and stretched, languidly. She must have really been tired. She dropped off as soon as her head hit the pillow. It took her a few seconds to realize she was in bed alone and she sat up. “Nige?” She ran a hand through her hair and tossed back the covers. Maybe he was gone to get them breakfast; he liked to do that in the mornings. As soon as she spotted the lancet, her blood froze. He wouldn’t! She grabbed it up and confirmed that the lancet was still inside the tube, then she set it back down, angrily. She quickly grabbed her clothes and started to pull them on as she ran for the door. He couldn’t have gotten that far; she might be able to catch him. She was stunned when she tried to start her car and it refused to respond. She popped the hood and gaped at the damage Nigel had done. “The little bugger!” She’d taught him that, damn it, and he’d used it against her. She slammed the hood down and ran back into the room for her phone. There had to be a cab company or something around here. As she started flipping through the small yellow pages chained to the wall, she spotted the note on the right side of the bed. She stomped over and snatched it up. Syd, I know you are going to be furious with me, and I deserve it. I lied about sending the lancet back, but I didn’t lie about changing my mind to use it. I haven’t, honestly. You can take it back to the university yourself, and no one will be the wiser. I am glad you came, but I need to do this alone. I need you to trust me on this. Please understand and don’t try to find me. This is my problem and I have to handle it alone. Really, I will be okay. Yours, Nigel Sydney crumpled the note in her hand, battling both anger and hurt. Why was he being so stubborn? Why wouldn’t he let her help? He was going to go off and get himself hurt or killed, and then where would she be? She’d be without Nigel, that’s where, and that was simply unacceptable. Yet, he’d asked her to trust him, to not follow him and let him do whatever this thing was he felt he had to do. As his friend, she should accept his wishes, but the fear that he might never come back to her was overwhelming. She jumped as her phone rang and she hit the talk button, sure that it was Nigel, calling to say he had changed his mind. “Nigel, you’d better…” “It’s Cate, Sydney.” “Oh, hi.” “Why did you think I was Nigel? Is he with you? I’ve been trying to reach him for days.” “Why, what’s going on?” “I left him a message that Mason escaped three days ago. I wanted to see…” “What?” Sydney demanded. “How could you let that happen? He was in your custody?” “I don’t know. He had to have someone inside the agency to help him, it’s the only explanation.” Cate paused. “Nigel is with you, right, Syd?” Sydney growled in frustration. This woman seemed to only bring trouble. “No, Cate. Nigel isn’t with me. He was with me and now he is not with me and as he is not with you either, we can only assume that he has gone after Mason, since you were so kind as to tell him that the man who has caused him irreparable pain and confusion has escaped!” “I was trying to warn him…” Cate stammered. “I have a warning for you, Cate. If anything, anything happens to Nigel, I will make you wish that you were never born!” “Are you threatening me, Sydney?” “No, I’m making a statement of fact!” “Look, I don’t want to go to war over this,” Cate insisted. “I want to help. If you think that Nigel is going after Mason, then we have to find him.” “Now there’s an idea, isn’t it?” Sydney snapped. “What do you recommend? Another plot to trip him up? Shall I pose as Mason’s mother, or long lost daughter this time?” “Sydney, stop it!” Cate exclaimed, angrily. “I know you’re worried, so am I, but this isn’t helping Nigel.” Sydney dropped down onto the bed, her anger spent. She knew it wasn’t Cate’s fault, but she felt so helpless. Nigel was suffering and she could do nothing about it. “He lied to me, Cate,” she muttered, defeated. That was what had hurt the most. “Nigel has never lied to me before, well I mean little white lies about taking my classes when he didn’t, but not about anything important. He’s changing before my eyes and I don’t know how to stop it.” She ran her hand over her face and stared at the lancet. “I want my friend back, damn it.” Cate was silent for a long time, when she spoke her entire demeanour had softened. “Syd, where are you?” Sydney told her. “I’m not far away, I can be there in less than an hour. Wait for me and we’ll go look for Nigel.” “He asked me not to. He asked me to trust him and not to follow.” Cate huffed. “Sure he did, but he isn’t being Nigel, now is he?” Sydney paused. “Well, it isn’t like him, that’s for sure.” “Besides, you won’t be following him, I will. You’ll just be with me.” Sydney nodded and felt her first tingle of hope. “Thanks, Cate. Get here soon okay?” “An hour, Syd. Wait for me.” “I will.” Sydney ended the call and took a deep breath. Between the two of them, they would find Nigel and keep him from doing anything he shouldn’t. She glanced up as she heard someone rattling the doorknob of the motel room door. She jumped up and hurried to pull it open. “Nigel! I knew you’d…” She tried to turn away, but there was no time and she was immediately assaulted with an uncomfortable prickling sensation brought on by the blow dart that landed in the side of her neck. Her legs went out from under her and she struggled to hold onto something, tried to stay upright as her vision blurred and nausea burned her stomach. She spotted a set of legs, cloaked in black, moving toward her, before she dropped to the floor and everything went black. Nigel wiped at the perspiration on his brow. The sun had gone down an hour ago and it was still hot as blazes. Why would anyone choose to live here? He entered a seedy looking tavern and blinked at dropped down at a worn, tilted table. He’d been all over, asking questions, trying to find out where Maxwell Mason could be hiding, but he kept coming up short. No one would talk to him, not for money, not with pleading, not even when he lied through his teeth. He may as well have been asking about where to find the Devil himself, people were afraid of Mason and he suspected, in some strange way, they were afraid of him as well. He noticed that there hadn’t been any of the usual disruptions or altercations with the kinds of brutes that haunted places like these, not like when he was on a hunt with Sydney. Then, he was usually accosted, glared at, sometimes even mauled or tossed over a table, before Sydney jumped in. Here, no one seemed willing to approach him and he wondered if that was because he looked like Ian. The bartender brought him a beer without his asking for it, but refused to answer his questions about Mason. He groaned and took a gulp of the warm liquid, needing anything to moisten his dry throat. He began to suspect that he shouldn’t have tried to do this alone. Sydney would have devised a plan already, perhaps she would have figured out a way to use his resemblance to Mason’s son in the favour. Without the lancet, he surely couldn’t pretend to be Ian, and it would probably get him in more trouble anyway. He didn’t know who knew the other man was dead. He pushed the beer away and dropped his head into his hands. Think, Nigel, think! There had to be a way to get to Mason. He needed to confront him, he needed answers and most of all, he wanted the criminal to pay for his crimes, but how to do it. He should have just called Cate and told her of his suspicions, that he believed Mason to be in Mexico, but he wanted time alone with him first. Time to ask questions. Now he was beginning to wonder if he was chasing a wild goose. He could have made a mistake about Ian’s schooling. Mason could be anywhere and if Interpol couldn’t find the gangster, how could a simple, quiet Englishman from London? He looked around and noticed that the few locals in the bar were eyeing him suspiciously, that he was used to, but there was something else in their eyes. Fear? He banged his fist on the table and watched several of these large, hulking men jump. Mason was here, these people knew Ian, which meant they knew Mason, as well, and were afraid of him. “Seńor Bailey?” a voice inquired from behind. Nigel didn’t bother to turn; he just took another sip of his beer. He suspected this was coming. “Who’s asking?” “Seńor Mason wants to see you.” Nigel’s excitement was mixed with fear, but he hid both well. “Maybe I don’t want to see him.” A large, meaty, brown hand appeared in front of his face, holding a familiar leather strap. “He believes you will.” Nigel snatched at Sydney’s strap and bolted up from the table, knocking his chair over. “Where is she?” he demanded, no longer bothering with pretence. The Mexican waved towards the door. “Seńor, if you please?” Nigel grabbed his bag and followed them out. He climbed into the car waiting for them, a car with tinted windows and, if he wasn’t mistaken, bulletproof sheeting. He knew that he was heading straight to the lion’s den, but what choice did he have? This was what he wanted, right? He wanted to confront Mason about the DNA test. Besides, if the man had Sydney, Nigel had no choice. He sat back, swallowed his fear and tried to ignore the impulse to flee as the car started forward.
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