FIC: In the Arms of the Wicked, 19 (Ian/OMC, Don, OCs, PG-13)
Title: "Ride it"
Series: In the Arms of the Wicked, Part 19/?
Characters: Ian/OMC, Don, OCs.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Ian and Farrow share a revealing ride.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything (characters, situations, etcetera) except my OCs.
Beta: The wonderful fredbassett, the fantastic twins_mom and the great lillyg . Special thanks to harknessgirl for reading this before I posted it.
Previous chapters: Click here.
Previous chapter
Next chapter
Part 19: "Ride it"
Archeologists were strange and intense when a mystery was presented to them. They acted like it was the challenge that would redefine their lives, a single problem that would make up for the rest.
Farrow was no exception. Since Lillian had left the house and taken her car to the hospital where their friend Richard was a patient, he’d spent his time working on the question of who could have set his jet on fire and buried the antiques underground. He’d flipped the pages of a hundred books in his library, a room as old and dusty as the rest of the house. Four bulbs, located in strategic areas, gave plenty of light to work in.
Ian had observed the entire process - Farrow’s dark look as his fingers brushed the rough surface of the pages, the dust spat out when the books were violently closed after they offered no clues to solving the mystery. He watched how Farrow’s face tensed every time he realized he needed more information. How he ran his hands through his hair from time to time, almost hurting himself. How he didn’t seem to have enough time to review every single book. How he got annoyed by the fact that he couldn’t find an answer that pleased him, and how he kept biting his lip and frowning as if the answer was in front of his eyes but he couldn’t see it.
The man was going crazy.
“Stop,” Ian told him when Farrow was about to use the ladder again to get a book off one of the highest shelves.
“Why?”
There was silence between them, but when Ian looked around, Farrow followed his gaze, his own eyes taking in the mess in the library. That’s when he seemed to get the point and, discouraged, the archeologist sat on the ladder instead.
Getting worried about the situation, Ian reached for the book Farrow wanted and handed it to him. Farrow remained silent without opening it; he ran his hands over the cover, as if he was tired of looking for a solution he couldn’t find.
“I could help.”
Farrow laughed sadly. “Thanks, but I think I’m the only one who can take care of this. No offence.”
“None taken,” Ian answered, resting his back against the shelves. Archeology wasn’t his field anyway, and he certainly wouldn’t learn all about it in a couple of days. “I’ve been told that Professor Eppes had moments of deep concentration like these. He always got his answer, though. Apparently, there were times when he was working very hard and all he needed was a break to see the light.”
“Well, I’m not Professor Eppes.”
“No, you’re not, but…” Ian folded his arms. “Isn’t anything you can do to clear your mind?”
The question seemed to startle Farrow, and the book nearly slipped from his hands. His eyes were fixed on the floor as he said, “I… I don’t know. I haven’t done it in more than two years. I doubt it’d be useful...”
“Try it. Maybe that’ll make your head work and you’ll be able to figure out what the hell that cult wants from you.”
He had an effect on the other man this time. It looked like Farrow was drowning himself in a memory, but he finally smiled, got off the ladder and started walking towards the door. On the way out, he left his book on one of the many desks.
“You know, you’re not as scary as you try to look,” he said as he left, mocking the sniper. “I’m sure that behind that stoic mask, you have a heart of gold.”
So we’re back to the sarcasm. I can deal with that. Still believing the other man would solve the case soon, Ian followed Farrow with a smirk on his face.
XxX
The sound of footsteps was the only noise in the calm night that surrounded Ian as he made his way to the stable behind his house. He could see the stars in the cloudless night; the moon stood above him, guiding his path with its light.
He’d seen the stable from the outside a couple of times that day, but hadn’t really given it much thought. Farrow had told him he’d had horses in Arizona once. Of course, that was inviting memories to fill Ian’s brain, memories of Marah and her wonderful animals and how she talked to them when she was happy, before going back into the house and drinking a nice glass of wine.
Being in a stable again for the first time in years made Ian realized that he’d been avoiding it on purpose. As soon as he entered the place, he felt the atmosphere getting into his veins.
A hallucination. A hint of the past. The smell. The ventilation. The soft lights. The neighs. The view.
His eyes couldn’t take such beauty. He already knew what kind of horses he’d find, but they were so much more perfect when seen in person. Behind a fence, almost fifteen animals were sleeping or eating their hay.
“Do you recognize them?” Farrow said, as he called one of the stunning horses closer to him.
“I remember the pictures.”
“This is a…”
“A black Friesian, I know. That’s a Gypsy Vanner and that’s an Arabian.” Ian finished the sentence with as little emotion as usual. He folded his arms and walked towards another one of the animals.
“Wow, you do know,” Farrow responded, caressing his horse’s head. He looked a bit surprised. “And you do like them, after all.”
Ian observed the Friesian’s strong body like he was living out a fantasy. “Someone I knew used to have some of these, that’s all.” When the Friesian came to him without him calling it and lowered his head, the sniper instinctively ran a hand over its beautiful mane. “Hey, there… You’re a good boy.”
“With all due respect, Agent Edgerton, that doesn’t look like ‘all’ to me. Only a true horse lover looks at them with such respect and admiration.”
Don’t play the smart guy. Ian glanced at Farrow and looked down. There was straw under his shoes; it was clean, just like it should be, and that triggered a question. “How do you take care of your horses? You said no one lived here most of the time so that no one knew this was your house.”
Farrow smiled. “Um… I pay a woman who lives near this place for her to take care of them when I and the others are away. Let’s just say she knows how to keep a secret.”
“Aha. You and your money.”
“Hey, I only use it for meaningful stuff. Besides, that woman loves spending time with them. It’s a win-win situation.”
“Mmm.”
“So, do you miss the person who had horses like these?”
It sounded like Farrow wanted to get into a place he really shouldn’t. Ian remained silent, not willing to give out any answers.
“I get that you want to keep your privacy, Agent. I feel the same way about my life,” Farrow ended up saying, turning to the horse.
“That won’t get you anywhere with me. I already told you.” Farrow’s sudden laugh started Ian. “What’s so funny?”
“You always assume the worst of me. It’s strangely stimulating as an intellectual challenge.”
“Whatever suits you, as long as you see the light.”
“To tell you the truth, I already feel better. Being in this place…,” Farrow muttered, glancing around the stable. “It used to make me calm, but I never tried it anymore after…” He stopped without an apparent reason. “Anyway, the fact that I feel good here is kind of unexpected, considering the circumstances.” Slowly, he caressed the neck of the bay Arabian. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
Turning to the Friesian he was with, Ian stated, “Yeah. This one is a good guy, too. I bet all of them are, but this one… His eyes… he’s different, I can tell...” There was something in that animal’s eyes. The blackness of his body, the silkiness of his short hair, the way he looked into Ian’s eyes and remained still. Maybe it was his power or his presence…
“Ride him.”
The question came out of nowhere. “What? No. I won’t ride your horse.”
“Why not?”
I just won’t. “Because.”
Farrow raised his eyebrows. “That’s not a good reason.”
“It is to me. I don’t have to give you any explanations.”
“I can’t figure you out.”
“Same goes for you, ‘Chris.’”
Farrow didn’t answer right away. He kept taking care of his Arabian and talking to him, but then he muttered, “You’re going to ride that gorgeous animal one day.”
Ian snorted and laughed. He felt the urge to use his sarcasm, but he tried to control himself. “Oh, no. That’s not going to happen.”
“We’ll see.”
“Yes, we’ll see.”
“But when that happens, you will… Hmmm. Excuse me.” A melody had come up and Farrow took out his cell phone. “Lilly… What? What do you mean, Richard’s gone?”
“Holy…” Ian muttered as he made a call himself. When Don picked up, he added, “Hey, we have a missing person here.”
“Damn it. Who is it?”
“One of Farrow’s colleagues, Richard something. He was on the plane that crashed last night.”
“Ah… Yeah, I’ve got the passenger list here. Richard Peyton. According to our sources, he’s supposed to be at…” Don checked a list and gave the name of the hospital.
“We sent someone to check on him and it turned out he wasn’t there.” Ian heard Farrow saying that Richard might have been kidnapped and that he’d wait for a call. “He could have been taken out of the hospital against his will.”
Don took a breath. “A kidnapping. I’m going to call the hospital, open a new investigation on that and link it to the data we have on the cult. It’d be good if you went there as soon as you can.”
“We’ll do. What about the CalSci shooter?”
“We’re interviewing some possible eye witnesses today.”
“Great. Stay in touch.” When Ian hung up, he noticed Farrow had also finished his talk with Lillian and was looking at him expectantly. The sniper informed him, “We’re going to that hospital. Now.”
XxX
Sergio threw two bags in the trunk of the SUV and exclaimed, “I still don’t get it! Someone put him on a trolley, rolled him out of the hospital and no one noticed? That looks too much like a Mission Impossible movie to me.” His analogy made Ian laugh. It was funny that some of the things people could see in movies and considered improbable were actually pretty common for the FBI.
“Well, it could be. Who would have thought they’d crash my jet?” Farrow replied as he put another bag in the trunk. He noticed how Sergio scratched his head and stared at it in worry. “What is it?”
“Um… I don’t know.”
“C’mon. What are you thinking about?”
Looking nervous, Farrow’s butler shook his head. “Nothing, I had this idea… about someone betraying us. Who knows if that cult has people inside.”
That was actually an intelligent consideration. As Farrow discounted it, Ian thought that he had to keep his eyes open, just in case.
“Nah… We’re all friends here and we trust each other, Sergio. Nothing bad will happen. I can tell.”
“Okay, if you say so.” Sergio didn’t seem very convinced, but he came into the house to get the last things they needed to take to the hospital with them. “By the way, I made some of that drink you like so much. It’s in the fridge, just in case.”
“Thanks.”
Ian got in the car, and Farrow followed. The sight of him carrying a briefcase, gave the sniper a bad memory about the shooting at CalSci. He cursed the fact that there had been no progress on that yet.
“What if Sergio’s right? What if it’s one of the bodyguards?” the archeologist suddenly wondered.
Ian put on his sunglasses. “It could be… or not.” He watched how Farrow rubbed his palms together.
“Okay, yeah… I’m just…” He never finished the sentence. Silently, he looked out of the window as Ian turned on the engine and Sergio and a bodyguard took over the backseat. The rest of the team would stay at the house.
“See you later, guys.” Sergio said. When Ian looked into the rear view mirror, he noticed that the man wasn’t smiling; the bodyguards that were left behind were, though.
During the ride that followed, Ian thought it was going to be a very enjoyable one. There was peace and silence, Sergio and the bodyguard had fallen asleep; everything was so calm and different from the day before… He didn’t need more dirty comments or more dust on his pants. After having a night of sleep taking away from him, he needed to relax…
“Bisexuality and homosexuality have been a part of human identity for thousands of years,” Farrow stated suddenly, startling Ian and making him forget about his perfect ride. He was writing down fractions and Egyptian symbols in a little note book.
The car moved at the rhythm of the irregular ground, not as smoothly as it’d done it before. Ian’s hands took a tighter grip on the steering wheel. “Are we starting a conversation?”
Farrow frowned. “Yeah, I believe we are.”
“And you’re talking about… sexual orientation.”
“I’m nervous, okay? Besides, I’m an archeologist. I just know these things, I find them interesting. What am I supposed to talk about?”
“Right,” Ian muttered, trying to relax. There was an unexpected moment of silence; for a second, he thought the speech was over. He was wrong.
“Even the gods had same-sex relationships. For example, Ancient Egypt mythology has several references and versions of stories that describe sexual intercourse between two endlessly powerful men.”
Shaking his head, the sniper took a deep breath. Here we go again. “Okay.”
“I could tell you what the tales about Horus and Set imply about them…”
Oh, for God’s sake. “Thanks, but… I’ll pass.”
“Really? Because the lettuce with Horus’ seed…”
“I can figure it out by myself.”
“It was an aphrodisiac plant for Egyptians…”
“I don’t need to know.” I don’t want to know. How the hell am I supposed to see lettuce in a sandwich the same way after that story?
“All right, all right. Would you feel more comfortable if we talked about which god was more likely to be a top or a bottom?”
Stop it. Ian hit the gas. “I would appreciate it if you’d drop the subject or just shut up.”
“Fine, let’s talk about something else. Something exciting. What about… you?” Farrow’s eyes were on the sniper, and a wicked smile was dancing on his face.
Ian glanced at the man beside him. “Forget it.”
“Why not? Look at the road ahead of us. It’s going to take us at least forty minutes to get to the hospital.”
“I said ‘no.’”
“How did you become who you are today? How did you get to your current position?” There was no response. “Are you going to answer my questions?”
“No. I’m the one who has the cuffs and the gun, remember?” Ian muttered, feeling satisfied with his words. He turned to Farrow, who was frowning.
“Is that how you want to play?”
“I’m not playing.”
“Okay, whatever you say. I’m not complaining anyway.”
Ian took his eyes back to the road and then heard him saying, “I could be the one with the cuffs,” but shook the idea out of his head because there it held an uncomfortable meaning.
“Like I said earlier, you’re not as tough as you think.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
Smirking, Farrow caressed his chin. “After being surrounded by so many people who only care about money or prestige…”
“Or fame…”
“Yeah, fame’s something I’m not proud of. But the point is, you learn how to recognize the good guys.”
“And how to get shot at by a crazy cult.”
The archeologist’s laugh was little and low. “That was a good one, I have to admit. So there’s a secret there, huh? A secret about your FBI story.”
You smart-ass. “If there was any, I wouldn’t tell you, so stop asking.”
“… which means there is one.”
“I don’t get it. Just limit yourself to not die and solve that fractions problem. Why do you want to know about me?”
There was the sound of a deep breath. “Ah… curiosity. Nothing more, nothing less. You’re a mysterious man, Agent Edgerton. Digging into that tough, hard cover of yours, seems to be the perfect job for someone like me.”
“Well, take your damn tools away. You’re not digging anything here.” A second later, when he heard Farrow’s laugh again, Ian realized what he’d said. God. Ideas started popping into his head, and he had to stop them before he got to the part of his mind where weird thoughts were kept. “It seems that I can join your friend Lillian and her anecdotal porn.”
“Yeah, you could! It’s what we do for fun anyway,” Farrow said. The smile on his face refused to go away.
“Sex?” Ian snapped, out of curiosity.
The other man seemed to be surprised by the question. “No… Actually, I believe that is a much more common practice among humans, not archeologists in particular. I meant the dirty jokes. It lightens the mood when you know you’ll be spending 72 hours or more digging into dry ground while being surrounded by people who are at least as crazy as you… and know how to use a sharp shovel.”
That got Ian smirking. “I guess,” he muttered, and a rusty building appeared not too far away, in the middle of the land. “It looks like there’s a gas station there.”
“Good. I need to stretch out.”
Soon they were parking beside the station and trying to figure out if there was anyone there. Ian got out of the SUV and took the fueling nozzle to do the self-service. Then he walked in the station as if the place belonged to him; he’d been in that situation many times, in other cases he’d worked on. He didn’t mind Farrow following him. Inside, there were some snacks machines and a mini-market section. There was also a man at the counter, snoring with a hat poorly placed on his head.
“Good morning,” Ian said, ringing the little bell that was near the man, waking him up instantly. The hat almost fell to the floor, but the guy caught it just in time.
“Yeah, yeah. What can I do for you?”
“I had a refuel. Thirty gallons.”
“Okay…” The man checked a list he had inside of a drawer and gave Ian the amount due. When he got the money, his thin lips tensed and he excused himself, “I’m sorry, my friend, but I’ve got no change. Why don’t you take a nice magazine so we’re even?”
Ian could see the change the guy had in a little table behind him, but he didn’t protest. He just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, so he turned to Farrow and found him already flipping the pages of a magazine. Once he was closer to him, he saw it was a publication about science and new discoveries; it reminded him that the blue-eyed man was a friend of Professor Fleinhardt. “Pick one and let’s go,” he said. But something caught his attention and he took a closer look at the magazines. Is that…? One of them had a cover that made him frown in disbelief. Two guys were playing with each other, naked, in bed. After taking off his sunglasses, Ian noticed that there were a couple of sex toys around them. The title of the main article said, “The ten secrets of mind-blowing bi and gay sex of the ancient world, revealed,” and the subtitle added, “Kama Sutra is not the only option.”
“Told you so,” Farrow said, smiling at him. He closed his scientific magazine and turned to the man behind the counter. “I’ll take this one!” he yelled, and then left.
Ian glanced at the archeologist for a moment, but his gaze came back to the cover of the dirty magazine. He didn’t really know what it was about the image of those two boys, but there was something dragging his eyes towards it, and for some reason, it seemed to be so forbidden that it was starting to look interesting.
Finally, he managed to tear his eyes away from the magazine, and he shook his head. Mild curiosity. Damn Arizona, putting weird ideas into your head. He was walking towards the door when he heard the owner of the gas station’s voice again.
The man was approaching him, and Ian hated his weird grin as he got very close and muttered, “If you promise to come back, I can give you that magazine for you and your boyfriend for free.”
Taking a deep breath, Ian put on his sunglasses again. Great. The last thing I needed was someone thinking we’re gay.
“Is everything all right?” Farrow asked him. He was reading his magazine, leaning on the car.
Watching him, Ian noticed that he was everything but calm. Farrow’s words and his body said something, but his trembling hands said otherwise. It didn’t surprise him; one of his friends was missing. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Once they were inside the car, Farrow took a look at the backseat. “They’re still asleep,” he pointed out. He was right; Sergio and the bodyguard were snoring behind them.
The archeologist turned to look at the steering wheel. Ian sat silently for a moment, then said, “So it seems that bisexual and gay people have been having a lot fun these last centuries, after all.” With that, he tried to lighten Farrow’s mood. It’d be better for him and for everyone.
His comment had the expected effect on Farrow. He leaned back in the seat, caressing his lips with his hands and looking through the window. “Yeah… we have,” he muttered, but then he went stiff and completely silent.
Ian looked ahead. The only sound coming from outside was the wind that slowly blew. Okay. So that’s what all those talks had to do with. His fingers tapped the steering wheel until he took a deep breath and decided to turn on the engine. The SUV started moving and Ian realized that the conversation was over for the rest of the ride.
It was strange to know that the guy who sat beside him could be interested in men. That could be the key to solving the mystery of Louis Terrence’s death. He and Farrow could have been lovers, and infidelity or vengeance could have been the motive for murder.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Sergio asked as his languid hand reached for the front seat and he tried to look at the road ahead. “We’re not there yet.”
“No, we’re not,” Farrow said, not taking his eyes off the window. Ian preferred to keep his mouth closed.
Sergio rubbed his eyes and yawned. “You know, I had the strangest dream ever…” he babbled right before the SUV’s trunk exploded and a mass of fire shot into the blackness of the night.
Series: In the Arms of the Wicked, Part 19/?
Characters: Ian/OMC, Don, OCs.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Ian and Farrow share a revealing ride.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything (characters, situations, etcetera) except my OCs.
Beta: The wonderful fredbassett, the fantastic twins_mom and the great lillyg . Special thanks to harknessgirl for reading this before I posted it.
Previous chapters: Click here.
Previous chapter
Next chapter
Part 19: "Ride it"
Archeologists were strange and intense when a mystery was presented to them. They acted like it was the challenge that would redefine their lives, a single problem that would make up for the rest.
Farrow was no exception. Since Lillian had left the house and taken her car to the hospital where their friend Richard was a patient, he’d spent his time working on the question of who could have set his jet on fire and buried the antiques underground. He’d flipped the pages of a hundred books in his library, a room as old and dusty as the rest of the house. Four bulbs, located in strategic areas, gave plenty of light to work in.
Ian had observed the entire process - Farrow’s dark look as his fingers brushed the rough surface of the pages, the dust spat out when the books were violently closed after they offered no clues to solving the mystery. He watched how Farrow’s face tensed every time he realized he needed more information. How he ran his hands through his hair from time to time, almost hurting himself. How he didn’t seem to have enough time to review every single book. How he got annoyed by the fact that he couldn’t find an answer that pleased him, and how he kept biting his lip and frowning as if the answer was in front of his eyes but he couldn’t see it.
The man was going crazy.
“Stop,” Ian told him when Farrow was about to use the ladder again to get a book off one of the highest shelves.
“Why?”
There was silence between them, but when Ian looked around, Farrow followed his gaze, his own eyes taking in the mess in the library. That’s when he seemed to get the point and, discouraged, the archeologist sat on the ladder instead.
Getting worried about the situation, Ian reached for the book Farrow wanted and handed it to him. Farrow remained silent without opening it; he ran his hands over the cover, as if he was tired of looking for a solution he couldn’t find.
“I could help.”
Farrow laughed sadly. “Thanks, but I think I’m the only one who can take care of this. No offence.”
“None taken,” Ian answered, resting his back against the shelves. Archeology wasn’t his field anyway, and he certainly wouldn’t learn all about it in a couple of days. “I’ve been told that Professor Eppes had moments of deep concentration like these. He always got his answer, though. Apparently, there were times when he was working very hard and all he needed was a break to see the light.”
“Well, I’m not Professor Eppes.”
“No, you’re not, but…” Ian folded his arms. “Isn’t anything you can do to clear your mind?”
The question seemed to startle Farrow, and the book nearly slipped from his hands. His eyes were fixed on the floor as he said, “I… I don’t know. I haven’t done it in more than two years. I doubt it’d be useful...”
“Try it. Maybe that’ll make your head work and you’ll be able to figure out what the hell that cult wants from you.”
He had an effect on the other man this time. It looked like Farrow was drowning himself in a memory, but he finally smiled, got off the ladder and started walking towards the door. On the way out, he left his book on one of the many desks.
“You know, you’re not as scary as you try to look,” he said as he left, mocking the sniper. “I’m sure that behind that stoic mask, you have a heart of gold.”
So we’re back to the sarcasm. I can deal with that. Still believing the other man would solve the case soon, Ian followed Farrow with a smirk on his face.
XxX
The sound of footsteps was the only noise in the calm night that surrounded Ian as he made his way to the stable behind his house. He could see the stars in the cloudless night; the moon stood above him, guiding his path with its light.
He’d seen the stable from the outside a couple of times that day, but hadn’t really given it much thought. Farrow had told him he’d had horses in Arizona once. Of course, that was inviting memories to fill Ian’s brain, memories of Marah and her wonderful animals and how she talked to them when she was happy, before going back into the house and drinking a nice glass of wine.
Being in a stable again for the first time in years made Ian realized that he’d been avoiding it on purpose. As soon as he entered the place, he felt the atmosphere getting into his veins.
A hallucination. A hint of the past. The smell. The ventilation. The soft lights. The neighs. The view.
His eyes couldn’t take such beauty. He already knew what kind of horses he’d find, but they were so much more perfect when seen in person. Behind a fence, almost fifteen animals were sleeping or eating their hay.
“Do you recognize them?” Farrow said, as he called one of the stunning horses closer to him.
“I remember the pictures.”
“This is a…”
“A black Friesian, I know. That’s a Gypsy Vanner and that’s an Arabian.” Ian finished the sentence with as little emotion as usual. He folded his arms and walked towards another one of the animals.
“Wow, you do know,” Farrow responded, caressing his horse’s head. He looked a bit surprised. “And you do like them, after all.”
Ian observed the Friesian’s strong body like he was living out a fantasy. “Someone I knew used to have some of these, that’s all.” When the Friesian came to him without him calling it and lowered his head, the sniper instinctively ran a hand over its beautiful mane. “Hey, there… You’re a good boy.”
“With all due respect, Agent Edgerton, that doesn’t look like ‘all’ to me. Only a true horse lover looks at them with such respect and admiration.”
Don’t play the smart guy. Ian glanced at Farrow and looked down. There was straw under his shoes; it was clean, just like it should be, and that triggered a question. “How do you take care of your horses? You said no one lived here most of the time so that no one knew this was your house.”
Farrow smiled. “Um… I pay a woman who lives near this place for her to take care of them when I and the others are away. Let’s just say she knows how to keep a secret.”
“Aha. You and your money.”
“Hey, I only use it for meaningful stuff. Besides, that woman loves spending time with them. It’s a win-win situation.”
“Mmm.”
“So, do you miss the person who had horses like these?”
It sounded like Farrow wanted to get into a place he really shouldn’t. Ian remained silent, not willing to give out any answers.
“I get that you want to keep your privacy, Agent. I feel the same way about my life,” Farrow ended up saying, turning to the horse.
“That won’t get you anywhere with me. I already told you.” Farrow’s sudden laugh started Ian. “What’s so funny?”
“You always assume the worst of me. It’s strangely stimulating as an intellectual challenge.”
“Whatever suits you, as long as you see the light.”
“To tell you the truth, I already feel better. Being in this place…,” Farrow muttered, glancing around the stable. “It used to make me calm, but I never tried it anymore after…” He stopped without an apparent reason. “Anyway, the fact that I feel good here is kind of unexpected, considering the circumstances.” Slowly, he caressed the neck of the bay Arabian. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
Turning to the Friesian he was with, Ian stated, “Yeah. This one is a good guy, too. I bet all of them are, but this one… His eyes… he’s different, I can tell...” There was something in that animal’s eyes. The blackness of his body, the silkiness of his short hair, the way he looked into Ian’s eyes and remained still. Maybe it was his power or his presence…
“Ride him.”
The question came out of nowhere. “What? No. I won’t ride your horse.”
“Why not?”
I just won’t. “Because.”
Farrow raised his eyebrows. “That’s not a good reason.”
“It is to me. I don’t have to give you any explanations.”
“I can’t figure you out.”
“Same goes for you, ‘Chris.’”
Farrow didn’t answer right away. He kept taking care of his Arabian and talking to him, but then he muttered, “You’re going to ride that gorgeous animal one day.”
Ian snorted and laughed. He felt the urge to use his sarcasm, but he tried to control himself. “Oh, no. That’s not going to happen.”
“We’ll see.”
“Yes, we’ll see.”
“But when that happens, you will… Hmmm. Excuse me.” A melody had come up and Farrow took out his cell phone. “Lilly… What? What do you mean, Richard’s gone?”
“Holy…” Ian muttered as he made a call himself. When Don picked up, he added, “Hey, we have a missing person here.”
“Damn it. Who is it?”
“One of Farrow’s colleagues, Richard something. He was on the plane that crashed last night.”
“Ah… Yeah, I’ve got the passenger list here. Richard Peyton. According to our sources, he’s supposed to be at…” Don checked a list and gave the name of the hospital.
“We sent someone to check on him and it turned out he wasn’t there.” Ian heard Farrow saying that Richard might have been kidnapped and that he’d wait for a call. “He could have been taken out of the hospital against his will.”
Don took a breath. “A kidnapping. I’m going to call the hospital, open a new investigation on that and link it to the data we have on the cult. It’d be good if you went there as soon as you can.”
“We’ll do. What about the CalSci shooter?”
“We’re interviewing some possible eye witnesses today.”
“Great. Stay in touch.” When Ian hung up, he noticed Farrow had also finished his talk with Lillian and was looking at him expectantly. The sniper informed him, “We’re going to that hospital. Now.”
XxX
Sergio threw two bags in the trunk of the SUV and exclaimed, “I still don’t get it! Someone put him on a trolley, rolled him out of the hospital and no one noticed? That looks too much like a Mission Impossible movie to me.” His analogy made Ian laugh. It was funny that some of the things people could see in movies and considered improbable were actually pretty common for the FBI.
“Well, it could be. Who would have thought they’d crash my jet?” Farrow replied as he put another bag in the trunk. He noticed how Sergio scratched his head and stared at it in worry. “What is it?”
“Um… I don’t know.”
“C’mon. What are you thinking about?”
Looking nervous, Farrow’s butler shook his head. “Nothing, I had this idea… about someone betraying us. Who knows if that cult has people inside.”
That was actually an intelligent consideration. As Farrow discounted it, Ian thought that he had to keep his eyes open, just in case.
“Nah… We’re all friends here and we trust each other, Sergio. Nothing bad will happen. I can tell.”
“Okay, if you say so.” Sergio didn’t seem very convinced, but he came into the house to get the last things they needed to take to the hospital with them. “By the way, I made some of that drink you like so much. It’s in the fridge, just in case.”
“Thanks.”
Ian got in the car, and Farrow followed. The sight of him carrying a briefcase, gave the sniper a bad memory about the shooting at CalSci. He cursed the fact that there had been no progress on that yet.
“What if Sergio’s right? What if it’s one of the bodyguards?” the archeologist suddenly wondered.
Ian put on his sunglasses. “It could be… or not.” He watched how Farrow rubbed his palms together.
“Okay, yeah… I’m just…” He never finished the sentence. Silently, he looked out of the window as Ian turned on the engine and Sergio and a bodyguard took over the backseat. The rest of the team would stay at the house.
“See you later, guys.” Sergio said. When Ian looked into the rear view mirror, he noticed that the man wasn’t smiling; the bodyguards that were left behind were, though.
During the ride that followed, Ian thought it was going to be a very enjoyable one. There was peace and silence, Sergio and the bodyguard had fallen asleep; everything was so calm and different from the day before… He didn’t need more dirty comments or more dust on his pants. After having a night of sleep taking away from him, he needed to relax…
“Bisexuality and homosexuality have been a part of human identity for thousands of years,” Farrow stated suddenly, startling Ian and making him forget about his perfect ride. He was writing down fractions and Egyptian symbols in a little note book.
The car moved at the rhythm of the irregular ground, not as smoothly as it’d done it before. Ian’s hands took a tighter grip on the steering wheel. “Are we starting a conversation?”
Farrow frowned. “Yeah, I believe we are.”
“And you’re talking about… sexual orientation.”
“I’m nervous, okay? Besides, I’m an archeologist. I just know these things, I find them interesting. What am I supposed to talk about?”
“Right,” Ian muttered, trying to relax. There was an unexpected moment of silence; for a second, he thought the speech was over. He was wrong.
“Even the gods had same-sex relationships. For example, Ancient Egypt mythology has several references and versions of stories that describe sexual intercourse between two endlessly powerful men.”
Shaking his head, the sniper took a deep breath. Here we go again. “Okay.”
“I could tell you what the tales about Horus and Set imply about them…”
Oh, for God’s sake. “Thanks, but… I’ll pass.”
“Really? Because the lettuce with Horus’ seed…”
“I can figure it out by myself.”
“It was an aphrodisiac plant for Egyptians…”
“I don’t need to know.” I don’t want to know. How the hell am I supposed to see lettuce in a sandwich the same way after that story?
“All right, all right. Would you feel more comfortable if we talked about which god was more likely to be a top or a bottom?”
Stop it. Ian hit the gas. “I would appreciate it if you’d drop the subject or just shut up.”
“Fine, let’s talk about something else. Something exciting. What about… you?” Farrow’s eyes were on the sniper, and a wicked smile was dancing on his face.
Ian glanced at the man beside him. “Forget it.”
“Why not? Look at the road ahead of us. It’s going to take us at least forty minutes to get to the hospital.”
“I said ‘no.’”
“How did you become who you are today? How did you get to your current position?” There was no response. “Are you going to answer my questions?”
“No. I’m the one who has the cuffs and the gun, remember?” Ian muttered, feeling satisfied with his words. He turned to Farrow, who was frowning.
“Is that how you want to play?”
“I’m not playing.”
“Okay, whatever you say. I’m not complaining anyway.”
Ian took his eyes back to the road and then heard him saying, “I could be the one with the cuffs,” but shook the idea out of his head because there it held an uncomfortable meaning.
“Like I said earlier, you’re not as tough as you think.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
Smirking, Farrow caressed his chin. “After being surrounded by so many people who only care about money or prestige…”
“Or fame…”
“Yeah, fame’s something I’m not proud of. But the point is, you learn how to recognize the good guys.”
“And how to get shot at by a crazy cult.”
The archeologist’s laugh was little and low. “That was a good one, I have to admit. So there’s a secret there, huh? A secret about your FBI story.”
You smart-ass. “If there was any, I wouldn’t tell you, so stop asking.”
“… which means there is one.”
“I don’t get it. Just limit yourself to not die and solve that fractions problem. Why do you want to know about me?”
There was the sound of a deep breath. “Ah… curiosity. Nothing more, nothing less. You’re a mysterious man, Agent Edgerton. Digging into that tough, hard cover of yours, seems to be the perfect job for someone like me.”
“Well, take your damn tools away. You’re not digging anything here.” A second later, when he heard Farrow’s laugh again, Ian realized what he’d said. God. Ideas started popping into his head, and he had to stop them before he got to the part of his mind where weird thoughts were kept. “It seems that I can join your friend Lillian and her anecdotal porn.”
“Yeah, you could! It’s what we do for fun anyway,” Farrow said. The smile on his face refused to go away.
“Sex?” Ian snapped, out of curiosity.
The other man seemed to be surprised by the question. “No… Actually, I believe that is a much more common practice among humans, not archeologists in particular. I meant the dirty jokes. It lightens the mood when you know you’ll be spending 72 hours or more digging into dry ground while being surrounded by people who are at least as crazy as you… and know how to use a sharp shovel.”
That got Ian smirking. “I guess,” he muttered, and a rusty building appeared not too far away, in the middle of the land. “It looks like there’s a gas station there.”
“Good. I need to stretch out.”
Soon they were parking beside the station and trying to figure out if there was anyone there. Ian got out of the SUV and took the fueling nozzle to do the self-service. Then he walked in the station as if the place belonged to him; he’d been in that situation many times, in other cases he’d worked on. He didn’t mind Farrow following him. Inside, there were some snacks machines and a mini-market section. There was also a man at the counter, snoring with a hat poorly placed on his head.
“Good morning,” Ian said, ringing the little bell that was near the man, waking him up instantly. The hat almost fell to the floor, but the guy caught it just in time.
“Yeah, yeah. What can I do for you?”
“I had a refuel. Thirty gallons.”
“Okay…” The man checked a list he had inside of a drawer and gave Ian the amount due. When he got the money, his thin lips tensed and he excused himself, “I’m sorry, my friend, but I’ve got no change. Why don’t you take a nice magazine so we’re even?”
Ian could see the change the guy had in a little table behind him, but he didn’t protest. He just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, so he turned to Farrow and found him already flipping the pages of a magazine. Once he was closer to him, he saw it was a publication about science and new discoveries; it reminded him that the blue-eyed man was a friend of Professor Fleinhardt. “Pick one and let’s go,” he said. But something caught his attention and he took a closer look at the magazines. Is that…? One of them had a cover that made him frown in disbelief. Two guys were playing with each other, naked, in bed. After taking off his sunglasses, Ian noticed that there were a couple of sex toys around them. The title of the main article said, “The ten secrets of mind-blowing bi and gay sex of the ancient world, revealed,” and the subtitle added, “Kama Sutra is not the only option.”
“Told you so,” Farrow said, smiling at him. He closed his scientific magazine and turned to the man behind the counter. “I’ll take this one!” he yelled, and then left.
Ian glanced at the archeologist for a moment, but his gaze came back to the cover of the dirty magazine. He didn’t really know what it was about the image of those two boys, but there was something dragging his eyes towards it, and for some reason, it seemed to be so forbidden that it was starting to look interesting.
Finally, he managed to tear his eyes away from the magazine, and he shook his head. Mild curiosity. Damn Arizona, putting weird ideas into your head. He was walking towards the door when he heard the owner of the gas station’s voice again.
The man was approaching him, and Ian hated his weird grin as he got very close and muttered, “If you promise to come back, I can give you that magazine for you and your boyfriend for free.”
Taking a deep breath, Ian put on his sunglasses again. Great. The last thing I needed was someone thinking we’re gay.
“Is everything all right?” Farrow asked him. He was reading his magazine, leaning on the car.
Watching him, Ian noticed that he was everything but calm. Farrow’s words and his body said something, but his trembling hands said otherwise. It didn’t surprise him; one of his friends was missing. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Once they were inside the car, Farrow took a look at the backseat. “They’re still asleep,” he pointed out. He was right; Sergio and the bodyguard were snoring behind them.
The archeologist turned to look at the steering wheel. Ian sat silently for a moment, then said, “So it seems that bisexual and gay people have been having a lot fun these last centuries, after all.” With that, he tried to lighten Farrow’s mood. It’d be better for him and for everyone.
His comment had the expected effect on Farrow. He leaned back in the seat, caressing his lips with his hands and looking through the window. “Yeah… we have,” he muttered, but then he went stiff and completely silent.
Ian looked ahead. The only sound coming from outside was the wind that slowly blew. Okay. So that’s what all those talks had to do with. His fingers tapped the steering wheel until he took a deep breath and decided to turn on the engine. The SUV started moving and Ian realized that the conversation was over for the rest of the ride.
It was strange to know that the guy who sat beside him could be interested in men. That could be the key to solving the mystery of Louis Terrence’s death. He and Farrow could have been lovers, and infidelity or vengeance could have been the motive for murder.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Sergio asked as his languid hand reached for the front seat and he tried to look at the road ahead. “We’re not there yet.”
“No, we’re not,” Farrow said, not taking his eyes off the window. Ian preferred to keep his mouth closed.
Sergio rubbed his eyes and yawned. “You know, I had the strangest dream ever…” he babbled right before the SUV’s trunk exploded and a mass of fire shot into the blackness of the night.