Topic: Burned

Isabelle Jackson

Date: 2016-06-24 16:21 EST
The array of artifacts up for auction was truly amazing. Isabelle wasn't sure she'd ever seen quite so many priceless pieces gathered together in one place that wasn't a museum. A part of her was angry that so many of them would not see the light of day for many, many generations to come, if at all; not to mention the fact that most, if not all, had been looted, stolen, or otherwise acquired in a less than legal manner, robbing the people who should have been allowed to take joy in their history.

She kept her anger under wraps, however, all but forcing Jax to accompany her as she pored over the artifacts, glorying in the opportunity to hold them - albeit under close supervision - and authenticate them for herself. It had taken the better part of that second day at the stately home for her to do it, and they had attracted something of a crowd made up of the other guests, who all seemed very interested in everything she and Jax had to say about the pieces. And it was for that reason alone that she had to be very careful about what she murmured to herself as she studied the scarab, the last artifact on their tour. She knew what she was holding, fluent in hieroglyph and hieratic. She also knew that it was very likely she - and possibly Jax - were the only people who knew exactly what was written in that cartouche.

All this was very interesting, but it was really just a formality. Jax already knew about many of the objects up for auction, and while it was a shame he couldn't save them all, it was the scarab that mattered. He knew how important it was, not only to those who had sent him here to obtain it, but to science and history. It was also important in a way he hadn't shared with Izzy, but so long as he got what he'd come here for, it didn't much matter. One way or another, he wasn't leaving without that scarab - it was a matter of life and death.

"11th century BC, you say?" an excessively upper-class gentleman was saying as Isabelle reluctantly handed the scarab back to the curator of the artifacts.

She turned to the man as she peeled off the cotton gloves she had been wearing. "It's difficult to say with certainty," she told him, glibly lying through her teeth. "The scarab is a very common theme. But a conservative estimate would place it around the time of Tutankhamun or Smenkhare."

Jax said nothing. Isabelle was the expert, after all. He wasn't a scholar. Everything he'd learned, he'd learned from experience. A lot of experience. He'd also learned a lot from her and from his travels in Egypt and elsewhere, but he was nowhere near the expert that she was; and hence, he let her do the talking when it came to questions regarding the scarab. Besides, he didn't want anyone to know how valuable it really was, if he could help it.

"Ver' interesting, ver' interesting," another guest said, nodding sagely as they group began to disperse.

Isabelle fought hard to conceal her smile at the sheer lack of actual knowledge in this collection of private collectors, turning to Jax. "I think we're done here," she told him. "What would you like to do now?"

"Besides stuff that thing in your purse and hightail it out of here?" he asked, keeping his voice low for her ears alone. That was obviously not what he was going to do. Though he was sorely tempted, he knew he wouldn't get ten feet from there before he'd get caught by Alonzo's goons.

The smile he got in return for his comment was decidedly more sultry than it really deserved, but she had to do something to keep the guards near by from growing suspicious. Tugging gently on his shirt, she drew him closer, lowering her voice as she leaned into him. "Keep saying things like that, and I won't be able to talk you out of trouble next time."

"Well, what do you want me to say?" he asked quietly as she drew him close. There was nowhere they could go where they couldn't talk without risking being overheard. He couldn't be sure they'd found all the bugs, and Alonzo's goons were everywhere they turned. Leaving the premises wasn't an option,either. He needed to stay close by and keep an eye on that scarab. "Walk in the garden?" he asked, trying to think of someplace they could go where they might not be watched as closely.

"Seems like a good idea," she agreed with a softer smile, sliding her hand down his arm to take his as she turned to head out of the ballroom. The guards watched them go with a heavy gaze; despite outward appearances, Miss Granger and Mr. Jackson were being watched very closely indeed.

Jax wasn't entirely stupid. He knew they were being watched. He knew Alonzo had his suspicions, but the truth was they were here for the same reasons everyone else was here, and that was to bid on and obtain some item or other, for whatever reason. Jax wondered if he was the only one there who had underlying reasons not even Izzy knew about for being there. He'd been as honest as he could with her, but he just couldn't risk some things being shared where Alonzo might hear about it. He offered the guards a smile and a nod of his head as he led her out of the ballroom, as if to acknowledge that he knew they were watching.

"I hate the way they look at us," she murmured to him as they crossed the main hall to the doors, abandoning his hand to tuck her arm about his back to feel a little more secure. "As if they know something we don't."

"One more day, and we're done here, Izzy. We can leave and put this place behind us forever," he assured her, draping an arm around her shoulders as she tucked an arm around his back. Not for the first time, he wished he hadn't dragged her into his mess, but it couldn't be helped now. If he'd known she'd be here, would he still have come" Then again, he hadn't had much choice in the matter. What was she going to say when she found out about his little white lie" Hopefully, she'd understand.

"You say the sweetest things," she drawled with no small amount of sarcasm, flashing him the familiarly exasperated smile he always seemed to be able to get out of her. In daylight, the gardens were prettier than at night, less filled with shadows, but somehow less private, too. "What I'd like to know is ....how do we debug the room tonight without them knowing for a fact that we know we're being watched?" she asked curiously.

"Maybe we don't," he suggested quietly. He'd been thinking about this, too, wondering if they'd made a mistake by debugging the room and disabling the cameras. They didn't want Alonzo to suspect anything. After all, there wasn't really anything to suspect. They just wanted their privacy, but Jax couldn't help thinking Alonzo was up to something else here, and Jax had an idea what part of it might be. "Why do you think he invited you here?" he asked, careful to lead her down paths where no one else was wandering.

"I'm not sure," she murmured worriedly. She'd spent a great deal of thought on just that matter, more-so since they had reunited the day before. "Who knew that you were coming, Ryan?" she asked him softly. "Could they have been broken by Sisman's thugs" Could he have known in advance that you would be here?"

"No," he answered, almost immediately. There was no way anyone he was working for would have betrayed him - they wanted the scarab too much. "He invited you here because you're the scholar, Izzy. You just confirmed for all those buyers that what?s up for auction is genuine. Not just the scarab, but all of it. That's why he wanted you here. Not because he's hoping you buy it. Because he needed you to convince the rest of them. At least, I think that's why you're here. Or part of it, anyway." It seemed the most logical explanation.

Isabelle Jackson

Date: 2016-06-24 16:22 EST
"So why can't I shake the feeling that someone else is pulling the strings here?" she asked softly as they passed out from the hedges and into a crowded honeypot of a garden. She drew him down onto the nearest bench, curling her hands into his.

"Who would be pulling the strings?" he asked, unsure if he was following her. No one knew he was going to be there, except ....No, he didn't think they'd betray him, not before he had the scarab. Alonzo knew she'd be here; he'd invited her, anyway. But he couldn't have known about Jax. He wasn't even invited.

"There's only one name that springs to mind," she pointed out quietly. "And I know it's paranoid, but he scares the hell out of me. He always has, and that was before we pretty much spat in his eye." She bit her lip, her gaze wandering away to look out over the honeypot around them.

He didn't have to ask what name she was considering - Alistair. He almost felt himself shudder, remembering the last time he'd seen the man. He'd been left for dead, and if it wasn't for dumb luck, he'd be dead. "Are you saying this is some elaborate trap?" he asked, doubtfully. Even a scumbag like Alonzo wasn't that smart, was he" Unless Alistair had contacted Alonzo and asked him to invite her - or was he being paranoid now, too' "You should leave," he told her suddenly. "You don't need to be here. I can do this on my own. Tell them ....tell them you've had a family emergency or something," he suggested, not quite pleading with her yet.

Her head snapped back to look at him, green eyes wide with alarm. "I'm not leaving you here," she told him fiercely. "If I go, you go. No arguments about it. There's no guarantee that any of this conjecture is truth, it's just me being ....paranoid." Given the way she was looking over his shoulder as she said the last word in tones of weary resignation, it was a safe bet that paranoia was the least of their problems. The thugs were approaching, no doubt from behind her, too, their guns in their hands. "Something tells me this is not a call to dinner."

In broad daylight" he wondered, looking over her shoulder at the men who were coming their way. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run. He had to hope this was some sort of mistake, and that they could talk their way out of it, like they had the night before. This was his fault. Even if none of this had anything to do with Alistair, it was his fault for talking to her, for pursuing her again, for dragging her into his mess. And there was no time for I'm sorrys.

He moved to his feet, shielding her with his body, though it was hard to do with Alonzo's thugs approaching from both directions. "What's this about' Doesn't Alonzo like my credentials?" he asked, though he didn't really expect an answer. His fingers twitched for his Glock, but he knew better than to go for a gun with Izzy right there beside him.

"Mr. Sisman wants to talk to you," the best-dressed of the bunch informed them. "In private."

Behind Jax, Izzy gasped at the sensation of a gun prodding into her back, her hand gripping the back of his shirt.

"Please, don't give us any trouble," the thug said cheerfully. "I really don't care how many bits of her we need to shoot off to make you behave, Jackson."

"She's got nothing to do with this," Jax said, wondering what the other guests might think if they saw what was going on here, but he couldn't very well make a fuss, not with Izzy's life at stake. He didn't have to be told that they were holding a gun on her; he could tell by the way she was gripping his shirt, by the way she had gasped. "I came here to buy the scarab. My buyer is prepared to outbid everyone else," he told them, trying to appeal to their sense of logic, though he realized too late that if Alistair was somehow involved in all this, he might have made a bid of his own for Jax and Izzy's lives.

"I don't make deals," the man said. "I just do what Mr. Sisman says. This way." He gestured with his gun for them to return to the house.

Izzy stepped closer to Jax, pressed against his back. "I don't think we have a choice," she murmured to him, frightened but doing her damnedest not to show it.

It was at times like this that Jax wished he was a ninja warrior - or knew a ninja warrior. Someone who could out a small group of gun-toting thugs without getting killed, but that guy wasn't him. It wasn't just the fact that they were carrying guns. Jax had one of his own tucked into his jacket. If it was only his own life that was at stake, he wouldn't have thought twice about putting up a fight, but with a gun pointed at Izzy's back, he didn't have much choice but to do as he was told. "You're making a big mistake," Jax told them. "The people who sent us here aren't gonna be happy."

"This way," was repeated, with no response to Jax's comment.

With surprisingly discreet insistence, Jax and Izzy were herded back to the house, past the more public rooms, and into an old-fashioned library. Leather couches and armchairs were scattered about the place, but they were nudged toward a large desk, behind which sat their shady host.

"Ah, Mr. Jackson, Miss Granger," he greeted them with a slimy smile. "Take a seat."

"What's this all about?" Jax demanded, once he and Izzy were standing in front of their host. He remained on his feet, wary and watchful. He didn't want to piss the man off - not with armed gunmen at his back, but he wasn't going to be cowed either.

"You disappoint me, Mr. Jackson," Sisman said, rising to his own feet to walk around the desk and face them. "I had thought you were an intelligent man. Intelligent enough to know that the risk you are taking just being here is a deadly one." His eyes turned to Isabelle. "And Miss Granger. I must admit, I was surprised to find that you associate with this gentleman, but happily for me, your presence here has increased my estimated profits quite considerably."

"Look, Al ....Can I call you Al?" Jax asked, though he continued without waiting for a reply. "She hasn't associated with me in years. I didn't even know she was gonna be here, so whatever problem you have with me has nothing to do with her." Was he really going to try and talk his way out of this? So long as Isabelle was there, he didn't have much choice.

"On the contrary, I have a friend who is very eager to see the both of you," Sisman told him, not even batting an eye at the insulting informality Jax had pegged him with. "A friend who would have paid a stunning amount just for you, Mr. Jackson, but tripled his offer when I mentioned your charming companion here." He gestured toward Izzy.

As he did so, a strong hand gripped her hair, pulling her head back as a needle was inserted into her neck. She cried out at the unexpected pain, but whatever was in that syringe did its job fast. Within moments, she was unconscious, left lying uncomfortably on the nearest couch as the heavies turned their attention to Jax.

"Hey! Just one minute!" Jax exclaimed as soon as one of the heavies made a move on Isabelle. He didn't need Alonzo to tell him who his eager friend was. He'd already guessed it was Alistair, but he didn't have much time to process that, and he knew he was wasting his time talking to Alonzo. It was going to take more than one thug with a needle to take him down though, guns or no guns. As soon as the thug laid hands on Isabelle, he was already moving to defend her, with his bare hands if he had to, but four against one wasn't very good odds.

Even with one man laying Izzy down on the couch, that still left three and the shady Mr. Sisman to deal with their suddenly uncooperative guest. Evidently the guards had been hired for their strength and their lack of care as to how much damage they were going to do, but their aim was to do to Jax what had been done to Izzy.

Even if he lost, he wasn't going down without a fight. He somehow managed to get a few punches in before he was subdued. He wasn't going to make it easy for them, but in the end, he was outnumbered. "You're gonna pay for this, Alonzo!" was the last thing he said before he, too, had a needle stuck in his neck. They had to practically sit on him to do it, but once the drug started flowing through his veins, it wasn't long before everything went black.

The last thing he heard was Alonzo Sisman's voice, gloating. "I don't think so, Mr. Jackson. My friend has all sorts of plans for you and your charming companion. Sleep well ..."

Jax would probably blame himself for this later and blame himself for getting Izzy involved, but for now, all he could do was sleep.