THE REVENGE OF MIGUEL BAIN

by KC

It was a rocky trip. Winds from approaching storms made the small plane shake and shiver, and reduced CC's passenger to nauseous fury. She could hear him moaning and swearing as she maneuvered towards her landing strip. Already on edge, CC grew more nervous. The rough dirt surface she had carved out near her cabin would provide a bumpy return to earth for her patient/passenger. And it was beginning to rain.

"Senor Bain?" she called as she started her descent. "Are you still strapped in?

"Si, why?" the reply came from the back of the plane. "Are we there? Do you plan to re-injure me now?"

"Very funny, little do you know," she muttered as she concentrated on her instrument panel. "Just stay put please, this could get a little rocky."

"Shit, you ARE going to kill me yet…and what did you do with my laptop??"

"Shit, I may kill you if you keep up with this 'tude, why the HELL did I do this!" she thought, glowering through the windshield and lining up to make the landing. Cyber lay in his customary position in the co-pilot's seat, Papagayo dozed in his covered cage.

As the plane touched down and began to taxi along the strip, she could hear a sharp moan from her passenger. "Hold on, the worst part is over," she yelled. "We're almost home." And then under her breath, "Thank God."

The rain began to beat down as the plane came to a stop. CC unstrapped herself and the dog, and moved to the rear of the plane. Miguel was sprawled in his seat, face white, glaring at her. "I think I'm bleeding again," he snarled. "This is your idea of a recovery?"

"Look, Senor Bain, let's get something straight," she snapped, glaring back at him. "You're in deep shit for some reason, I don't know what that reason is and I don't want to know. But right now, you can think of this interlude as a card game – and, at the moment, I hold the winning cards. You can relax and let me get you into the cabin, and we'll see if you are re-injured – which I doubt. Or you can sit here, or out in the mud, and rot. I don't care. I promised you a safe place to regain your strength, and that offer stands. But, I've known you for, let's see, about 6 hours, and I'm already sick of you!"

They stared at one another for a long minute. "Well, what's it gonna be? Are you going to behave?"

"If you don't stop lecturing me as if I were a child, chica…" His voice was weak, but the dark eyes were snapping at her.

"OK, THAT'S IT!" CC yelled. "I'm outta here, you do whatever the hell you want." As she turned back towards the cockpit, a shaking hand reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Look, I'm sorry. No, truly, I am," he whispered, as she glowered down at him. "I need your help, and I am being ungrateful. It's just…" His eyes closed, and he grimaced in pain.

She watched him warily, waiting. After a long pause, Miguel began to struggle to unfasten his seatbelt and get up. CC leaned down to help him, and put an arm around his waist as they moved to the front of the plane.

"Wait, my things, the laptop," he muttered, stopping.

"I think we need to get you to the house, fast. I can come back in a while for your stuff, Senor Bain." I've got to come get my bird anyway, I can't manage both of you right now."

"Senorita, what is your name? CC, I think we can dispense with the formalities. My name is Miguel. The laptop comes with me, now," he said.

"This is YOUR idea of cooperation, Miguel"? Two pairs of eyes clashed again, neither one willing to give in. Another long pause, then. "OK, OK, I'll get the damned laptop, I hope to hell the carrying case is waterproof, it's pouring out there."

A bedraggled parade of laptop, man, woman and dog slowly left the plane and made the short journey to CC's cabin. Miguel sank down on the front steps and leaned back against a post, gasping, as CC searched through her backpack for the door keys. Cyber danced the length of the long front porch, happy to be home again.

"Finally!" CC breathed as the old door swung open. A blast of cold air hit her face, and she shivered, wondering if she had made the right decision. "Miguel, come on, let's get you in out of the rain," she murmured, helping him to his feet once again, and propelling him through the door and towards a brass four-poster bed in one corner. "I know it feels like going from bad to worse right now, but I will get a fire going – it doesn't take long to heat this place up."

"Give me a blanket, I will be fine," Miguel muttered, "I just want to lie down."

"NO! WAIT!" she yelled. "That's an antique quilt – my great grandmother made it. You'll ruin it – hold ON!" as Miguel started to sit on the bed. He glared at her once again, and swore under his breath, "I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying," she threw at him, moving to a large chest at the foot of the bed. "Just hang on for one minute longer, then you can dive in and pass out again."

He managed to remove the top half of the blood-stained scrub suit and turned as CC rose from the depths of the chest, holding a dark green quilt. "Here, wrap yourself up in this, you want to lose the pants so you'll be more comfortable?" she said as she moved closer to him.

"No, thank you, I do not," he replied through gritted teeth. "I would like to have a little dignity – and a little privacy, if you do not mind."

"Fine, no problem, hombre – I've got to go get some wood. Do whatever you want, I'll be right back."

Miguel watched her march, straight-backed, through the door. "What a touchy woman," he thought, wrapping himself in the quilt. He sank back on to the bed and into oblivion.

An hour or so later, CC looked around her the cabin and sighed. It was good to be home, she thought, and realized that it had been over eight weeks since her last trip here. The wood-burning stove snapped and popped, delicious smells rose from a pot on the stove. Thank God the electricity hadn't gone out – there was some food left in the freezer, canned goods, coffee – everything they would need for two or three days, just until Bain was a little more stable.

And it was comforting, in a weird way, to be back among her friends, her possessions. As she sat and ate some chile stew, she gazed around the room. The Navajo blankets and Hopi pots she had carried from her mother's house mingled comfortably with the heavy oak antiques her other ancestors – the white ones – had brought with them from the East.

Her mysterious passenger lay motionless in the bed. CC padded silently towards him, and gently unwrapped the quilt to check the bandages covering his chest. All that bumping and bouncing had somehow not reopened any of his wounds. "Who the hell are you, Miguel Bain?" she thought. "And why the hell do I care? I never have before."

She tucked the quilt around him, and turned away, almost tripping over the bags beside the bed. Sighing again, she bent to lift them and move them aside…and noticed that the smaller one was partially unzipped. An opportunity. Glancing back at Miguel, she quietly lifted the bag and carried it to the oak table. Opening the bag, she carefully removed the top items. Toiletries, sexy black briefs, a shirt, and several small, rectangular blue folders. Passports – four of them! And only one of them in the name of Miguel Bain…

"What does he do? Mortally wounded, multiple passports, that damned computer; this is so strange," she murmured. "On the other hand, it is none of your business, girl, he's paying you top dollar for the privilege of letting him stay here for a while. But to get shot like that, at almost point-blank range…" She thumbed through one of the passports, noting the colorful assortment of visa stamps. "A well-traveled man…"

Miguel stirred and moaned in the bed behind her, and CC quickly began to replace the items in the bag. As she started to close the zipper, her elbow accidently struck the covered cage on the table next to her.

"AWK!! SHIT!! What the hell you try to do to me?" Papagayo shrieked, making her jump. CC reached through the cloth cover of the cage and rapped the bird.

"Ssssh, quiet down, you dumb thing – you want to get me in trouble?" she hissed. She carefully slid the cage with the still-muttering bird in front of the travel bag and nonchalantly turned to see if Miguel had been disturbed.

"Oh, thank you God, you are definitely watching over me today," she whispered when she saw that he hadn't woken, and then swiftly moved the case back to the floor.

"Papa, it's time you and I got some sleep – it's been a helluva long day," CC murmured as she readjusted the birds' cage cover. "Cyber has the right idea, he's been sacked out for hours. However, where AM I going to sleep??" The sofa was old and lumpy, and the floor was definitely uninviting. She looked longingly at her bed and made a decision. "Screw it, if he gets offended or upset, so be it. I need some rest." She turned off the table lamp, stripped off her sweater and jeans, and padded silently to the other side of the four-poster.

Bain slept for most of the next two days, quiet and obedient as his involuntary nurse tended to him. As he rested, CC could see his color improve, along with his disposition. There was a little talk between them, and Miguel actually laughed weakly when Papa let loose with a stream of obscenities over a spilled water dish, but both were aware of a certain tension.

As soon as Miguel seemed slightly improved, CC announced that she would head into town for supplies.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours – take it easy, OK? – you're far from well," she cautioned as she and Cyber headed out the door.

Miguel grinned over at her and replied, "Yes, Mother, thank you. I will be fine." She impishly stuck her tongue out at him and left. As soon as he heard the roar of her truck, he slipped from the bed and walked over to the table and his laptop.

"I'm just fine, thank you, and now that we are alone, we will see if anyone has missed me," he thought, untangling the power cable and plugging into a wall outlet. "And, I wonder, I wonder – where have Sr. Rath and his ladyfriend gone to?"

"SHIT!!" he roared as he found that his organization identity had been erased. "They think I am dead. How could they know what happened – unless Rath told them? And is he also gone? But, this could be good, no one will know I am trying to find him. Hmmm, let's see…" Discreet searches turned up no trace of Rath's identity. "Well, he is also smart enough to know how to erase himself, perhaps. Where else can I look?"

Miguel continued typing, searching carefully through layers of Internet cover, trying to trace Rath's online trail. "What did he tell that woman, another name, think Miguel! Aah, yes, Joseph…damn, nothing!" He strained to remember the other names he had heard in the dusty, crumbling room. "Her names, Ellen, no Electra, Anna; hell, no one can hide – there is always a trail."

Frustrated, Miguel sat back and closed his eyes. "There was another name what was it…yes! Something about a boyfriend for Pearl…Pearl the cat." He typed furiously for a minute, and then gave a shout of triumph. "You stupid bastard, Rath, you thought you could hide, no waaaaay!"

Using the cat's name, Rath had left a discreet trail of information, stretching halfway around the world. One of the clues came in the form of a coded address for a Caribbean bank. "But, si, he has funds there, and so do I, let us see if there has been any recent activity."

Miguel accessed the bank site and tapped in a balance request, moving quickly to slip through the firewall as his message was transmitted. Another brief search turned up a password – Pearl, again. And an Email message from Rath, complete with address. "Dumb, dumb, you should not be so careless Robert Joseph, or Joseph Robert, or whatever the hell your name is," Miguel grinned as he copied the address. "Now, what can I do with this? We need to have some fun, si? This lying around recovering is so boring."

He pondered various ways to get Rath's attention. "I could just send him a 'wish you were here' message, no that's too obvious. We do not want him to know we are still around to plague him, but to plague him anonymously, make him wonder…but of course! We can play a little game of chess, he finds the game intriguing."

Miguel began to search for an online game site. "This will be good, I can do a little tormenting…wait, that game…." He swung around to his bag in the corner, wincing as he pulled at the wounds on his chest. "Where the fu…oh, here it is." He pulled a worn book out and began leafing through it. "Fadlan, Fadlan," he muttered, turning pages. "Si, si, Ahmad ibn-Fadlan – the Fadlan Gambit, this will work verrry well."

Note: from the book "Ancient Chess Games for the Connoisseur"

The Fadlan Gambit is credited to one Ahmad ibn-Fadlan, an Arabian courtier and noted chess master, who lived during the 10th century. The supposed story behind this devious game is one of two Arab assassins, who challenged each other to a match to determine which of the two was the superior intellect. The winner of the original game, according to legend, drove his opponent to madness and suicide with the sheer audacity of his play. Fadlan's ingenious series of moves has fascinated and baffled experts through the ages. Fadlan himself mysteriously disappeared while on a diplomatic mission on behalf of Caliph al-Muqtadir. The Gambit moves are as follows…

After studying the book, Miguel turned back to the laptop and keyed in membership information at the game site. Just as he completed the initial message to Rath, he heard CC's truck pulling up in front of the cabin.

"Damn! Why couldn't she wait ten more minutes." He abruptly shut the laptop down, and yanked the power cord from the wall, stuffing it into the case. With seconds to spare, he leaped for the bed and threw the quilt over his head, turning away from the door. When CC and Cyber came in, it appeared as if he'd been asleep since they had left.

Miguel waited impatiently for another chance to log on and initiate his subtle torture of Rath, to no avail. CC seemed to hover over him, oddly solicitious, almost as if she guessed he was up to something. His chance finally came one evening several days later, when a radio announcer gave warning of an approaching storm.

"I've got to go make sure the plane is OK, I won't be gone long – will you be all right?" she asked.

"Sure, sure, I will just sit here with my knitting, don't worry about me."

"Very funny, Bain, you are really getting on my last nerve, you know? Behave yourself – this won't take long. Cyber, stay."

As soon as the door closed, Miguel leaped for the laptop and logged on, impatiently tapping his fingers as a hacker trace located Rath – online.

"I understand that you consider yourself to be an expert chess player," Miguel's message to Rath read. "Would you care to try a game with one who considers himself your better?"

Miguel tapped in the URL for the game site and waited for the login screen. "Finally, now we can get going here," he crowed. He was ready when Rath responded to his message.

As he waited for Rath to counter his opening move, Miguel concentrated on strategy. "OK, I've got to use this next ploy…"

"What the HELL are you doing, Bain?" Miguel jumped, startled and struck his chest against the edge of the table. He barely managed to dump the session and close the laptop as CC stood over him, furious.

"We talked about this, you agreed you needed to rest until that mess you call a manly chest healed a little, you are like a frigging child, I don't believe this!" she yelled. "I don't want you hanging around here any longer then necessary, let me tell you, bud, and…oh my God, what have you done? You're bleeding again, you stupid shit. Come here, come on, move it – we've got to get this stopped. You can't afford to lose any more blood."

He shook her off angrily and stalked to the corner of the cabin. "I have had about enough of your smart-ass mouth, sweetie," he snarled.

"Tough, you wanna leave, sweetie?" she hissed back at him. "LIE DOWN."

He sank back on the bed as she moved to the sink at the other end of the cabin, returning with a basin of water, towels and bandages. "Move your damn arms, let me see," she said. "Aah, what a disaster you are, Bain." Expert hands gently unwrapped the dressing on Miguel's chest and began to wipe away a fresh trail of blood.

"You're lucky, Miguel, it's not too bad. So, tell me, just what in God's name were you doing? Is there something so important that you can't wait a week before attacking that damn computer? Waiting for a message from a rich girlfriend, or what? You are addicted to that stupid thing, aren't you…ooomph."

"Shut up, woman!" Miguel grabbed the back of her neck as she bent over him, forcing her face up to meet his. He stared into her eyes for a second, and then drew her down, pulling roughly until their mouths met and he forced hers open to meet his tongue. The air crackled with sexual electricity as the kiss went on and on…

"Cut it out!" You are unbelievable, Bain!" As CC pulled back, there was an angry, dazed look on her face.

"It was the only way I could think of to shut you up," he said softly, watching her. "Look, don't get bent out of shape, and be quiet for a minute. I only needed to check Email, I wasn't straining anything, your concern is admirable…"

"Didn't look like an Email message to me, Miguel," she retorted, regaining some composure. "It's none of my business, I only…"

"You are right – it IS none of your business, chica," he murmured, smiling at her.

CC hissed in exasperation and moved forward a step, arm raised to slap. He caught her hand in mid-air, twisted it and forced her body back towards his. "This could become most pleasurable, sweetie," he whispered, still smiling, and caught her lips again in a passionate kiss. She struggled briefly and then went limp, returning stroke for stroke with her tongue against his…