by
Debbie Kluge
The halls of Rockport High School were filled with the sounds of slamming doors, mingled conversations, and laughter as teenagers idled in groups or moved toward classrooms all up and down the long hallway. Here and there, a few adults could be seen watching this milling group with expressions that ranged from apprehension to amusement. In the midst of this controlled chaos, two young people moved purposefully down the hallway. The boy, blonde and blue-eyed, looked downcast.
" . . . and it's only Tuesday! Dad won't even let us start packing before this weekend."
Mischief sparkled in her green eyes as the redheaded young woman with him laughed. "Why do want to start packing this weekend? We don't leave for London for another month. And then, we have about two weeks of prep work before we can even think about leaving for Cairo. If you start packing now it will only make waiting even harder. You better start concentrating on getting all your special assignments done, Jonny Quest, or you may end up staying behind to finish the term!"
Jonny looked stunned. "Dad wouldn't do that, Jessie . . . would he?"
"Well, if it were me, I sure wouldn't push him. You don't really think he's going to let you fall behind a term simply so . . ."
"Jessie! Jonny! Hey, guys, over here . . ." The two young people looked up to see Michael Short, a fellow classmate, standing by a bank of lockers. He was waving at them frantically. "Hey . . . come over here . . . I've got someone I want you to meet." As Jessie and Jonny approached the group, they saw Michael standing with three other people. Two of them were about medium height and had longish brown hair and brown eyes. They appeared to be somewhat ordinary, except that they looked exactly alike. Jessie smiled at the pair and said, "Hi, Bobby . . . Matt . . . how's it goin?" They made a sharp contrast to the young man who had hailed them. Michael Short was almost six feet tall, gangly, and had a staggering shock of green hair.
Jonny looked up at Michael and grinned. "Green this week, huh? What happened to the orange?" Michael looked hurt and couldn't seem to come up with an answer.
Jessie broke in quickly. "Don't mind him, Mike. I think it looks . . . huh . . . striking. When are the basketball tryouts?" Mike blushed and hung his head.
Bobby volunteered, "They start tomorrow. Mike figures that if he stands out they'll notice him and pay more attention."
Jonny shrugged. "I don't know why you bother. You're the best basketball player we have. You're a cinch to make the team."
Mike turned a little redder, and then hurriedly changed the subject. "I want you to meet someone. This is Francesca Hamilton. She just transferred here from California. She's only been here about two weeks."
Jessie and Jonny both turned to look at the girl who had been standing, almost hidden, behind their three friends. Jessie's first thought was that she seemed awfully young to be in high school. But, on second inspection, she realized that the new girl wasn't young; she was just tiny . . . and beautiful. She couldn't have stood more than 4'11". Her skin was pale and clear without a trace of a flaw, and her blue-black hair fell to her waist in a softly waving cascade that seemed to frame her entire form. She was wearing a blue dress that clung to her body in a way that seemed to accentuate every curve. Jessie looked into her face and was met with a guileless look. I've never known anyone with violet eyes before, she thought. She glanced down at herself, and suddenly felt grubby in her long pink T-shirt, purple spandex pants and tennis shoes. She glanced over at Jonny and was instantly irritated. His face wore a stunned look.
He licked his lips and said, "Uh, hi. I'm . . . uh . . . nice to . . . uh . . . oh, wow!" Bobby snickered slightly, and his brother looked smug. Mike stifled a laugh.
Jessie abruptly held out her hand. "Hi. I'm Jessie Bannon. And this semi-moron is my friend, Jonny Quest. He can usually talk. I guess his brain just died or something." The girl smiled as she took Jessie's hand. Somehow, Jessie suddenly felt like the sun had come out from behind a cloud.
"Hi. It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about both of you. I'm glad we've finally met." Her voice was soft and melodic. "Everyone says you've done a lot of traveling. So have I. I'm hoping we can compare notes and see if we've been to any of the same places."
Suddenly, Jonny seemed to find his voice. "Hey, that would be great! It's lunchtime. The cafeteria food here is lousy. Want to go out for a burger? There's a place not far from here, and we can still make it back for afternoon classes . . ." His enthusiastic smile suddenly faded. " . . . unless you have a lunch class . . ."
Francesca smiled sweetly. "That would be wonderful. Bobby and Matt both have classes and Mike has basketball practice. And I'm afraid I don't really know anyone else."
That's weird, thought Jessie. How could she not know anyone if she's been here for two weeks?
"Are you coming, too, Jessie?" Francesca asked.
Jonny broke in quickly. "No. Jess has some . . . um . . . library research to do over lunch. Don't you, Jess." The look he gave her said very clearly that if she didn't, she had better find some, and quick.
Jessie looked at him with disgust and said, "Oh yeah, lots of research. It may take me days to finish it. You go right ahead, and I'll just get myself off to the library." Jessie steamed as she watched Jonny and Francesca move off toward the main doors. As they neared the entrance she watched with disbelief as Jonny reached out and took Francesca's books, tucking them under his arm. They were both laughing as they walked out the door.
Jessie had been doing a slow burn all day. She would have liked to have gone to lunch with Jonny and Francesca, and gotten to know the new girl. And she had not had any library research to do, so she had been left at loose ends for lunch. Most of her friends either had already left or had classes. Eventually, she had decided she wasn't hungry and just spent the lunch hour wandering through the school library looking for something to read. Unfortunately, she had already read virtually everything that was there. By the time it was time for her next class, she had moved from disgusted to angry. And the afternoon didn't improve. After her last class, she hung around her locker waiting for Jonny. After about 15 minutes, she went looking for him but wasn't able to locate him anywhere.
On the way back to her locker to see if he'd turned up, Matt approached her. He was in a hurry but stopped to say, "Hey, Jess, I ran into Jonny at the end of sixth period, and he asked me to tell you that he was going to walk Francesca home after school and then bum a ride with Mike after basketball practice. He said you should go on, and he would see you later."
Jessie sputtered, "But . . . but, we were supposed to go to the mall this afternoon. Dad was to pick us up there at about 5:00!"
Matt shrugged uncomfortably. "Sorry. All I know is what he told me. Well, I gotta go. See you later . . ." Jessie ran frantically for the parking lot hoping to catch a ride home, but the last car pulled out just as she left the building. She thought about calling her father but decided against it. She sighed and set off to walk the three miles to the mall.
She had no more than arrived when her father, Race Bannon, arrived to pick her up. He grinned at her. "Hey, Ponchita. Ready to go? Where's Jonny?"
"Oh, something came up at school, and he'll be home later. I'm all set."
He looked at her quizzically as she rose from the bench. "I thought you were coming here this afternoon to buy stuff to take with you next month."
She shook her head. "Didn't find anything I liked. Come on, let's go."
Jessie was silent all the way home. Race tried to engage her in conversation once or twice, but finally gave up after all he received was grunts or one-word answers. He looked at his daughter, thought of trying to ask her what was wrong, and then decided she would talk when she was ready. When they reached the Quest Compound, she went straight to her room and shut the door.
The more Jessie thought about the whole situation, the angrier she got. Jonny had no business treating her that way. What did he think she was, chopped liver? So what if Francesca was new. That didn't give him the right to . . .
"Jessie, time for dinner!" She walked into the dining room, still seething. Jonny was nowhere to be seen.
Benton Quest came in from the kitchen carrying a bowl and set it on the table. "Where's Jonny?"
Jessie spread her hands as she moved to sit down. "Got me. I haven't seen him since before lunch." She sat down and stared at her plate. Suddenly the idea of food made her feel slightly ill.
From the front of the house, a door slammed and Jonny came hurrying in. He was flushed and a little breathless. "Sorry I'm late. I got a ride home with Mike and basketball practice ran late."
"You should have called," his father told him severely. "We were starting to worry."
Jonny looked at Jessie blankly. "Didn't you get my message?"
"No." What am I doing? thought Jessie. Race looked at his daughter oddly.
"Well, I met this new girl at school today," Jonny began enthusiastically. "She's from California. Her father just transferred here, and she's traveled a lot, and we were talking about all the places we've been, and . . ."
Jessie tuned the conversation out as she pushed her food around on her plate aimlessly. Why had she lied about not getting Jonny's message? He was sure to find out that Mike had told her.
" . . . and she's really nice. I really, really like her."
Jessie shoved her chair back and rose abruptly. "May I be excused?" Jonny gaped up at her. She looked at him and said sarcastically, "I have a lot of library research to do." Jessie turned on her heel and stalked out.
Jonny sat there for a minute, and then jumped up and followed her out. "Jess . . ."
Benton Quest and Race Bannon looked at each other. Finally, Benton commented, "Do you get the feeling we've missed something here?"
In the mouth of a dark alley near the outskirts of Rockport, a silent figure watched and waited in the shadows. It was nearing midnight. The object of the man's scrutiny had entered the house across the street at 6:00 that evening and hadn't set foot outside since. A shadow moved further up the street and was gone. The man in the alley tensed and stared up the street intently. Nothing else moved. Slowly the figure relaxed again. A few minutes passed. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, something circled his throa, his arm was twisted up sharply, and a sharp object pressed firmly against his spine. A low voice hissed in his ear, "No sudden moves unless you want to be very dead. Who sent you?"
For a long moment, the man didn't answer. Finally, he responded hoarsely, "Baxter."
"Why?"
The man moved his head fractionally. "Why does Baxter ever do anything? He doesn't trust you."
The arm around the man's throat loosened fractionally. "I told him I wouldn't tolerate a watcher on this job. It's too dangerous. I'll get his merchandise, but I'm the one taking the risks so he plays this my way or the deal's off. You go back and tell him that contact's been made and things are proceeding according to plan. I'll contact him . . . my way . . . within the week. You got that?" The arm tightened again. The figure in the alley nodded jerkily. And suddenly, as mysteriously as he appeared, the stranger was gone.
This has to have been the worst 10 days of my life, thought Jessie as she picked herself up from the ground. She was wet, muddy, and cold. Flag football was not supposed to be a violent sport, but somehow this particular game didn't seem to be working out that way. She lined up again and, as the whistle blew, dodged her defender and ran up field. Just as she turned to check for the ball, it struck her in the back of the head. She fell heavily to the ground in the mud and lay there swearing to herself. Abruptly, it began to rain. Oh, why not, she thought wearily. It just goes with the rest of the week. Someone offered her a hand up. As she rose, the PE teacher gave up, and called it a day.
Jessie made her way dispiritedly across the field and headed for the door to go in and clean up. It was the last period of the day, and she was ready to go home. She and Jonny were supposed to work on packing this evening. Their fathers had left yesterday to fly some equipment to New York so it could be loaded on a transport for shipment. They would be back tomorrow to load up the stuff she and Jonny were packing tonight. It was going to be tight. They should have worked on it yesterday, but Jonny had wanted to help Francesca study . . .
I hardly ever see him any more, she thought. And when I do, all he ever does is talk about HER! Jessie wasn't sure, but she thought it was possible she hated that girl more than she had ever hated anyone in her life . . . including Jeremiah Surd. She wondered what Jonny would think about THAT. Considering what few conversations they had managed to have during the last week, she had a fairly good idea what he would say. Recently, most of their conversations could be better described as arguments. And that might even be kind.
She wondered where he was. As if on cue, the door opened, and there he stood. She blinked. He had left early this morning so she hadn't seen him. He stood before her now in a pair of navy blue corduroy pants, a white button down shirt, a blue pullover sweater, and a tie. His hair was neatly combed. She stared at him in disbelief. Beside him stood Francesca Hamilton. Jessie eyed her with loathing. As usual she looked exquisite . . . just like a china doll. She made Jessie feel clumsy and plain . . . ugly maybe . . . just like she always did.
Jonny stared. "Geez, Jess, what happened to you? You look like a reject from a mud wrestling tournament."
Oh, fine . . ., she thought. "Nothing that won't clean up. I'll be ready to go in about 10 minutes. Where do you want me to meet you?"
He looked uncomfortable. "Actually, I wanted to tell you that you should go on home, and I'll be there later. Francesca's dad finally has a free night, and she wants me to meet him. We're going to go to dinner. I should be home by about 8:00. I checked with Mike, and he says he'll give you a lift, no problem, so I'll see you then, okay?" She glared at him, hands on her hips. He shifted uneasily.
Finally, in a soft, dangerous voice, she asked, "What about the packing?"
He said hurriedly, "I'll be home to help soon. You get started, and we'll finish it up once I get there. Look, I gotta go. I'll see you later." Francesca smiled sweetly and took Jonny by the arm, cuddling up to him as they walked away. Jessie was sure Francesca was laughing at her. She stood there watching them until they were out of sight. Then she turned, pulling open the door forcefully, and entered the building. SLAM. Jessie turned and looked back to see chips of brick and mortar settling to the ground. The door still shook.
The locker room was rapidly emptying out as she came in to get cleaned up. One of the few girls remaining called to her from across the room, "Hey, Bannon, I hear you've lost Jonny Quest to Francesca Hamilton." Jessie turned her back and ignored her. "Seems that he took her out to lunch about two weeks ago, and has been trailing around after her like a little lost puppy ever since."
Jessie turned and looked at her. "I wouldn't know about that. I'm not his keeper."
The other girl snickered. "I always did say he was too fine for the likes of you. They make a really great looking couple."
Jessie glared at the other girl in anger. "What would you know about it?!"
The girl laughed derisively and waved a hand at Jessie as she walked out the door. "At least Francesca knows how to be a girl!"
Jessie turned white and began to shake in fury. I hate her, I hate her, I HATE HER!!!!!
Becca, one of Jessie's teammates from the flag football game, looked up from her seat on a wooden bench nearby. "Girl friend, you're bein' a fool. That black-haired witch is bad news. There's somethin' not right about her. I swear she was lyin' in wait for him from the day she set foot in the door. I heard she was askin' about him from the first afternoon. And you're not helpin' yourself any by just lettin' her have her way without a fight. You better do somethin' or you're goin' to lose him for good!"
Jessie looked at her helplessly, halfway in tears. "But what do I do? How can I compete with her? He's never even said anything that would . . . he doesn't . . ." she paused desperately, then finished in a rush, "He's never been mine to lose!"
Becca looked at Jessie for a long time, then shook her head sadly. "You ARE a fool. Just mind what I said. There's somethin' not right about her."
As Jessie stood in the shower and let the hot water run over her head, she thought about the things Becca had said. She wished she could talk with somebody about this . . . her mother, maybe. Definitely NOT her dad, though. She shuddered at the very thought of THAT conversation.
Shying away from what she was feeling, she began thinking about Francesca and suddenly realized that Becca was right. There was something off about her. Jonny had talked non-stop about her from the day they met, but in thinking about it, it didn't seem to amount to much. Basically, Jessie knew that she came from California with her father about a month ago; she liked to take long walks, preferably clinging to Jonny while she did it; and, supposedly, she had traveled extensively with her father. As she considered that, Jessie suddenly realized that they didn't know any thing more about her now than what Mike had told them the day he introduced them. And Jonny had spent practically every spare moment he could find with her. Jessie didn't doubt that he had repeated everything he knew, since he hadn't stopped talking about her since they met. In that instant, Jessie made up her mind that she was going to find out everything there was to know about this girl, if it was the last thing she did.
Jessie stood silently in the dark corridor outside the school office and listened. The only sound she could hear was the ping of metal as it cooled. The blowers for the heating system had just kicked off. Softly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a plastic card. It was the Quest Enterprises credit card. Her dad would kill her if he knew what she was doing, but she had to get Francesca's social security number. She'd tried doing generic searches through the public records, but hadn't had enough information to get anywhere. She finally decided she was going to have to have some information to start from. The only place she could think of to get that information was from the school admission files, and if she got caught . . .
She shoved that thought away and concentrated on getting the office door open. With a soft click it popped open. She had to be quick! She knew the night janitor was due in soon. Clicking on her flashlight, she closed the door softly and moved to the bank of file cabinets at the back of the room. Locked! And she didn't think she had anything that she could use to get them open. Maybe she could find a key somewhere in the office. There were three desks in the room. She had no luck in the first two, but in the third she found a ring of miscellaneous keys. The second key she tried opened the file cabinets.
She checked quickly through the files until she came to the one marked HAMILTON, FRANCESCA. She opened it up and scanned the contents swiftly. Not much there. Name, address, father's name, social security number for both of them. Interesting . . . the only prior address listed was a PO box. No former employers. Mr. Hamilton was listed as self-employed. The office copy machine was kept in the back of the room in a small alcove. She decided to risk it and took the file back there. She gave a small prayer of thanks because someone had forgotten to turn it off and it was already warmed up. Quickly, she copied what little information was in the file and then returned the file to be cabinet. Carefully, she locked the cabinet again and returned the keys to the desk where she had found them.
Just as she was getting ready to leave, she heard the sound of the fire door closing and footsteps coming up the hall. Hastily killing her flashlight, she looked around frantically as she heard someone outside the door jingling a set of keys. Quickly, she dived under the desk farthest from the door and crouched there, waiting. She heard the door open, and suddenly, the room was filled with light. She huddled where she was, frozen. She heard the rustle of paper, and realized that the janitor was emptying the wastebaskets. She stared helplessly at the wastebasket sitting three inches from her toes. The silence of the building was broken abruptly by the shrill sound of a phone.
The janitor answered it on the second ring. "Hello? Oh, hello, Mr. Pike. No . . . no, I haven't been in the basement tonight. I just got started. Water valve? Sure, I can run down there right now and shut it off. You say they'll be here in about half an hour to work on it? Not a problem. I'll listen for them and be sure to let them in. Will do. Okay. Bye." Footsteps moved out of the room and down the hallway. Suddenly Jessie heard the fire door open and, a moment later, close. She was up and out the door in an instant. She ran down the hallway, heading toward the parking lot side of the building, and eventually slipped out the gym room door. Her knees shook as she leaned against the wall in the darkness, trying to catch her breath. That was TOO close, she thought. It took her about 15 minutes to get back to the place she had hidden the motorcycle she had ridden across country to get here. As nearly as she could figure, she had about half an hour before Jonny would be home. If he's on time, she thought sourly. She revved the engine and headed for home.
Jonny Quest sat quietly in a very fancy dining room on the outskirts of Augusta. When Francesca had suggested dinner with her father, he'd thought she meant in one of the local seafood restaurants that lined the coast. He had no idea they were going to go to Augusta! It was already after 9:00 and they still had a good hour's drive to get back home. Oh boy, was Jessie going to be pissed! He smiled softly to himself. He had never found anything that had gotten under Jessie's skin like Francesca had done. He could practically see her boil every time she laid eyes on the dark-haired girl. He thought quietly about the last two weeks. It had been really flattering to have a girl like Francesca interested in him. Certainly, he had never known anyone as beautiful. No, he corrected himself, that's not true. I know ONE other girl who is more beautiful. Jonny smiled to himself again. But he was going to have to do something about the situation very soon. All his friends at school thought he was about the luckiest guy alive. But Jonny was uneasy. While it felt really great to have someone like Francesca pay attention to him, it didn't seem to be enough. She just didn't seem to have much to say for herself. She could listen to him for hours, but try and get her into an intelligent conversation, and things just died. And she didn't seem to like to do anything. She didn't like to swim, or skate, or ride motorcycles or ATVs, or any of the stuff Jessie and he always did. Face it, Jonny Quest he counseled himself sternly, you're bored. He suddenly realized that he desperately missed the time he used to spend with Jessie. At least she has a brain, he thought wryly.
"So, young man, you say your father is out of town for a few days?"
Jonny abruptly focused on his dinner companions. David Hamilton sat directly across the table from him. He looked remarkably like his daughter with the raven-black hair and pale skin. His eyes, however, were a hard, pale, watery blue. Somehow, those eyes made him nervous. He felt like they were sizing him up for something. "Uh, yes, sir. He'll be back tomorrow. He only had to go to New York to move some stuff up to a cargo company for shipping. He called last night to say they should be home early tomorrow afternoon."
"They . . .?"
"Oh, Race went with him. Race is Jessie's dad."
This comment was directed to Francesca. Her expression seemed to darken just slightly for a brief instant, but before Jonny could be sure, she was smiling at him again. She leaned toward him slightly and cooed, "Jonny's dad is soooo cool, Daddy. He talks about him all the time. They're really close."
In a hearty voice, Mr. Hamilton commented, "That's just fine. I really would like to meet him. I have a number of investments that I think he might be interested in."
Jonny perked up slightly, "Investments, sir? Are you a broker or something? I don't think Francesca's ever said."
Mr. Hamilton waved his hand vaguely. "Investments, stocks, bonds, business opportunities, things like that. You might say I help people clarify their future."
That's an odd way to put it, Jonny thought.
"But I suppose we should think about getting back. I have some work to do tonight and Francesca tells me that you also have plans." He waved at a waitress and asked for the dinner bill.
Francesca turned and smiled softly at Jonny. "I know Jessie will be missing you. We really are terrible, keeping you out this late. And after you told her you would be home by 8:00, too."
Jonny got the uncomfortable feeling that Francesca was maliciously amused by the thought that Jessie might be angry. Suddenly, Jonny knew he was going to end this association just as soon as he possibly could.
Jonny eyed the big house in the distance with relief as they emerged from the trees that surrounded the edge of the bluff. The longer he spent with the Francesca's father, the more uncomfortable he became.
As the drove on toward the house, Mr. Hamilton raised his eyebrows slightly and commented, "You appear to live in quite a fortress, young man. Your father must have some very valuable things to have such tight security."
Jonny stiffened at the man's tone of voice. "My father does important work. It wouldn't be smart to leave some of the things he works on unsecured."
"Of course. Perfectly understandable." The car rolled to an easy stop on the circle driveway in front of the house and David Hamilton turned to his passenger. "Well, it certainly has been a pleasure meeting you, son. As always, my little girl has excellent taste in friends. I hope to see you again very soon."
Jonny stepped out of the car and turned back a little stiffly. "Thank you for an interesting evening. Good night, Francesca." Jonny turned and walked toward the front door. As he stepped onto the front patio the lights came on, illuminating the entire front of the house. Jonny walked up, inserted his key and entered, closing the door behind him.
David Hamilton sat briefly with a sardonic smile playing around his lips. Then he put his car in gear and moved slowly down the drive toward the main gates. "Well, Francesca, my dear, that proved to be a very interesting evening. I believe that providence has smiled upon us. Shall we take advantage of our opportunities?"
Francesca Hamilton smiled thinly. Gone was the soft, beautiful face and sweet smile. "Oh, I believe so. I really do." And she began to laugh.
WHAM! Jonny winced as he closed the door softly behind him. There was a brief silence, followed abruptly by a resounding crash. He listened as the sound of angry footsteps crossing the floor was followed by the distant sound of a door being slammed in another part of the house. Then there was silence. Jonny looked at his watch. It was 10:25. Well, she had a right to be mad. Cautiously, he stuck his head around the door and peered into the family room. Packing crates and boxes where strewn everywhere. Miscellaneous equipment, manuals, books and other items lay scattered over surfaces throughout the room. Jonny viewed the disarray with dismay. He knew they were supposed to be doing a bunch of packing. And he also knew Jessie had been bugging him about it even before their fathers left. But he had no idea there was this much to do. No wonder she was angry. If he ever got out of the doghouse on this one it would be a miracle.
He moved quickly through the house and entered his room. Five minutes later he reappeared wearing old jeans and a t-shirt. Jessie was still nowhere in sight.
"Jess . . .?" He looked in the dining room, the kitchen, his father's study, and finally went back upstairs to check in her bedroom. Nothing. Where could she be? Going back downstairs, he returned to the kitchen and checked the back door. Unlocked. With a little sigh of relief, he realized she must have gone out to the lighthouse for something. He surveyed the family room again, and decided he might as well get started. Maybe she wouldn't be quite so angry if she came back to find him working. A few minutes later he heard the back door open and glanced up from his packing crate to see Jessie standing in the door.
"So you finally decided to come home."
He looked at her earnestly. "I'm really sorry, Jess! I didn't mean to be gone that long. It . . . it just kind of . . . worked out that way." He trailed off uncertainly. Jessie stood in the door for a minute, and then moved quietly to a packing crate on the far side of the room. Jonny watched her in perplexity. He expected her to be angry . . . she certainly sounded angry when he came in. He looked at her a little more closely and said uncertainly, "Are you okay? I really didn't mean to stick you with all of this." Her head was bowed and her hair obscured her face, as she knelt and randomly shoved stuff into a box. She just shook her head. Jonny rose abruptly and crossed the room to where she was sitting on the floor. "Jessie, what is it?"
"I'm fine. I'm fine." But she wasn't fine. She had never felt like this before. Like she was being torn apart from the inside. What was wrong with her . . .? She shook her head angrily. She had spent an hour hunting through all of the public databases she could think of, and had been unable to find out anything about Francesca Hamilton or her father. Social security numbers, dates of birth, nothing had served as a key to tell her anything. It was as though they didn't even exist. Finally, in frustration, she had returned to the packing. She had been absolutely furious . . . until she heard the car door. She had risen to go to the door, but something had stopped her. After a moment, she suddenly realized that she had stopped because she was afraid of what she might see. With that she had thrown the stuff she had in her hands to the floor and had fled the main house. For the next twenty minutes, she sat out in the cold night air near the lighthouse and cried. She hadn't known what else to do.
Jonny reached a hand down to turn her to face him. She jerked away but not before he saw that she was crying. He sank slowly to the floor beside her. "Jessie . . ." It was barely a hoarse whisper. She looked at him quickly through blurred vision. The pain and confusion on his face was plain. "Jessie, I . . ." He swallowed hard. "I didn't mean to . . . I mean . . . PLEASE don't cry . . . Francesca is just . . ."
And, just as suddenly, the anger was back again. She flung herself to her feet and stormed across the room. "Stay away from me! Francesca . . . Francesca . . . Francesca. That's all you ever talk about any more. Morning, noon, and night. I'm sick of it!" Seeing Jonny's bewildered expression finally broke down the last of the barriers Jessie had erected and her anguish and pain poured out in a flood of words. "Who is she, anyway?! She a non-person, that's what she is. A complete non-person. She doesn't exist anywhere. Not here. Not in California. Not anywhere. And neither does her father! It's like they're nothing but ghosts!"
Slowly, what she was saying began to penetrate. "Wait. Slow down. What do you mean, non-persons?"
"I mean they don't exist! No birth certificates, no mortgage records, no credit history, no visas, no work history, nothing! They just . . ." Slowly she sputtered to a stop. Jonny's expression had turned vacant, and a slight frown creased his forehead.
He finally looked at her and asked softly, "How do you know?"
"Because I've looked . . . looked everywhere. They just don't exist!"
"Maybe you just didn't have enough to go on."
"I had social security numbers and dates of birth! That ought to be enough."
He looked at her sharply. "Where did you . . ." Her expression stopped him. ". . . no, no never mind. It doesn't matter." He sat for a minute longer.
She watched him closely, sensing that something was happening. "What . . ."
Suddenly, he smiled. "You know, I think I've been set up." Jessie approached him hesitantly, not liking the expression she saw on his face. His words were bitter as he continued, "Both Francesca and her dad spent the entire evening pumping me about Dad and his work. And just like the chump I am, I told them everything they wanted to know, and even let them in through the main gates." He rose quickly and walked across the room to a partially buried computer sitting on the desk. He shoved everything unceremoniously onto the floor and began typing quickly. The screen came to life with an image of the road and main gates to the compound. A dark sedan moved sedately down the drive, but just before it reached the gate sensors it pulled off and parked silently under a canopy of trees. If he hadn't seen it pull in he wouldn't even know it was there.
Jonny stared at the screen for a long minute and then looked at Jessie. "That's the tape from the surveillance system. They've been free on the grounds ever since I got home."
"But IRIS would have warned us . . ."
"I didn't bother to reset the security systems when I came in."
"Oh." Jessie looked at the car parked under the trees. "What do they want?"
He shrugged. "I have no idea. It could be anything . . . just take your pick. But one thing's certain . . ." Jessie looked at him quickly, concerned by the tone of his voice " . . . they aren't here because she's interested in me."
"Jonny . . ."
He turned away angrily, and moved toward the phone. "I'm going to call the cops."
But before he could get there, Jessie exclaimed, "Look! The lamp on the lighthouse has gone out." She was staring out the window toward the towering structure that sat on the edge of the cliff out behind the house. It was totally black. Then, a flash of light appeared briefly in a lower window. "They're in the lighthouse."
"Then they're definitely going after something of Dad's." He picked up the phone and listened briefly. Then he set it gently back in the cradle again. "Dead." They just looked at each other.
Suddenly, Jessie grinned at him. "Well, we're in it up to our necks again, aren't we?"
A slow smile tugged at one corner of Jonny's mouth. "As usual. Hey, maybe the cellular will work!"
As he moved toward his father's study, Jessie headed for the computer terminal. "I'll try sending an e-mail message to Dr. Quest. If we're lucky he's on his computer, and he can call the cops. He may even know what they're after!" But, before either of them could reach their destination, the quiet was shattered by the sound of a gunshot. Glass in the window near Jessie exploded, and she dropped like a stone.
"Jess!"
"Stay there! I'm okay. Can you see where the shots are coming from?"
Jonny leaned forward cautiously trying to see out the shattered window as Jessie tried to crawl away from the window. Another shot rang through the room and shattered a valuable pre-Colombian pot sitting on a shelf on the other side of the room. His dad would be pissed about that. It had been a gift from the Colombian ambassador. "Looks like someone on the catwalk of the lighthouse with a rifle." Jonny reached down and grabbed Jessie's arm, hauling her up and out of the line of fire. As she peered around him trying to catch sight of the gunman, his arm slid around her waist, steadying her against him. She looked at him quickly. He was VERY close. She had never really noticed how blue his eyes were. "Jessie, I'm sorry for . . ."
A little breathlessly, she said, "Not now! We need to stop these guys first. I don't want to have this conversation while we try to duck bullets!" Reluctantly, he let her go. "Now, HOW do we stop them?"
Jonny thought for a moment. "We should be able to put the gunman out of commission if he stays on the catwalk. The trick is going to be to get whoever is inside. Can you tell who's on the walkway?"
Jessie peered around the corner again quickly. "Too far away to tell, but I'll bet it's not her. Jonny, we need to get that light back on. There's no telling what ships are out there. Without the light one of them may run aground!"
He grinned at her. "Oh, I have every intention of getting the light back on! In fact, I'm depending on it. Come on." They both moved carefully along the wall toward the entryway and the staircase that led to the bedrooms. As they passed the wall switch, Jonny reached out and killed the lights. "They'll have more trouble hitting a target they can't see." Racing up the stairs, they slipped quickly into Jonny's room where he moved to his computer and started working at the keyboard. "Yes! They haven't tried to fool around with IRIS. I'll override the system and set the backup power to come on in the lighthouse in 10 minutes. As soon as it kicks in, the beacon will come back on and it should blind our gunman." Jonny looked around. Jessie was nowhere in sight.
"Jess?"
She reappeared carrying a grappling hook and a length of rope. "I sent a note to Dr. Quest in New York and to the Rockport police. I don't know if they'll get it, but . . ." She tossed a set of climbing gloves at him. "They'll expect us to come in through the main door. I say we go in by the window on the seaside. I know it's open because I left it that way this evening."
He grinned at her in the flickering light of the computer screen. "Slammin'!" They both moved quickly out of the bedroom, down the stairs, through the dining room, and into the kitchen. As they approached the kitchen door, a gunshot echoed again in the night air and they heard another window shatter in the family room.
"They don't know where we are," Jessie commented softly. "They're shooting randomly, trying to keep us pinned down. Jonny . . . one thing . . ." She stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Yeah?"
"If there's a fight in there . . ."
"Yeah?"
"Francesca's MINE!"
Jonny grinned in the darkness. Crouching low, both of them sprinted for the path that led to the lighthouse. Keeping low, they moved into the undergrowth near the base and headed toward the seaward side. Another shot rang out, but again it appeared to be aimed at the house. Jonny quickly checked his watch. "Let's go! We only have about six minutes before the backup systems come up and the beacon comes back on. Man, I hope that new pilot system Race installed for the beacon works! This whole thing will be a bust if the beacon light has to warm up."
Jonny heard a soft POOF of air and then the distinctive sound of metal on stone as the grappling hook caught in the window. They both froze, waiting to see if the sound brought anyone. After a few seconds, Jessie yanked hard on the rope and began to climb. Jonny followed quickly. Three minutes later they stood in inky blackness inside the lighthouse. They moved quickly up the spiraling stairs keeping one hand firmly planted on the metal railing. Dim light resolved itself into a door that opened into the lab. A tiny figure could be seen moving around by the dancing light of a flashlight. Papers and data tapes were strewn everywhere. As they watched, Francesca took another handful of papers and flung them to the floor in disgust.
Suddenly, they heard her say, "I've looked everywhere, Dad! They just aren't here. They must be at the house. Keller said there should have been plans, computer backup files and probably a prototype." She paused, then continued irritably, "No, I don't know how big it was supposed to be. He didn't say. Can you tell where Quest and Bannon are?"
Jonny tapped Jessie on the shoulder and pointed upward. She nodded, then quickly laid a hand on his arm. She looked at him and her eyes seemed to say, Be careful. He touched her cheek lightly with one finger, smiled, and was gone. Jessie turned her attention to Francesca, her expression hardening. She checked her watch and waited patiently. With no warning all the lights came on, and Jessie could hear a pained exclamation from above. She shot through the door, hit the floor and rolled. A gunshot sounded and floor tile chips sprayed from a spot two inches from her head. She rolled to her feet behind the computer console and in one fluid movement lunged for Francesca's gun hand. The weapon went off again, sending sparks from a computer panel across the room as they grappled for the gun. Jessie twisted her arm and yanked her over her shoulder sending the tiny woman flying to land hard in the middle of the floor. The gun went sailing in the other direction.
Francesca rolled to her feet, snarling. Gone was the beautiful, sweet-faced girl. In her place was a snarling, hate-filled woman with death in her eyes. A knife suddenly appeared in her hand. In the distance, Jessie heard the sounds of sirens and a helicopter coming in fast.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs outside the room, and David Hamilton flashed by at a full run. Francesca backed toward the door, the knife weaving and darting. In that instant, Jonny erupted through the door. Using his own momentum against him, Francesca dodged and shoved him hard, sending him sprawling at Jessie's feet and effectively blocking her advance.
Francesca glared at Jessie in hatred. "This isn't over, Bannon. There'll be another time and another place."
Jessie responded coldly, "I'll look forward to it."
And then she was gone.
". . . and that's pretty much the end of it, Dad. The police and the Coast Guard searched the grounds, but they couldn't find either one of them. The car's still there, but Francesca and her Dad have completely vanished. Jess and I checked the lab as best we could, and as far as we can tell nothing is missing, but . . ." Jonny shrugged.
Jessie added, "At least from what little I overheard, it didn't sound like they found what they were looking for."
Benton Quest shook his head as he reached for the coffeepot on the buffet in the dining room. It was 4:00 in the morning, and none of them had gotten any sleep. He and Race had arrived home about an hour before, after a frenzied flight from New York. Jessie's call for help had come just as Benton was getting ready to shut down the computer and go to bed. He shuddered to think what might have happened if her message hadn't gotten through. His frantic call to the Rockport police and the Coast Guard had sent reinforcements out in force to the Quest Compound.
Neither one of the kids appeared to be much worse for wear, although both looked tired as they sat at the dining room table. More than once, Benton thought he caught stealthy looks cast between the two of them, but they always seemed to occur when the other wasn't looking. Benton shook his head slightly. Something was going on there, but darned if he could figure out what it was.
"There's something ringing a bell in my mind about the name Keller," Race commented. He held his coffee cup in both hands, seeming to soak up the warmth, "but I'm not sure what it is. Maybe I'll check with some of my old contacts and see if it rings any bells with them." He set the cup on the buffet behind him and moved purposefully toward the entryway. As he moved past the family room door, he looked in and shook his head. "What a mess."
Benton looked at the two young people in front of him. As he watched, Jonny cast another one of those stealthy looks at Jessie. She was staring at the surface of the table, lost in thought.
"Jonny?"
"Yeah, Dad?"
"Is there anything else you want to tell me?"
Jonny assumed an innocent expression. "No, I don't think so. Jess, have we left anything out?"
"Hmmm . . . what? Oh, no . . . no, I don't think so." Jessie's face took on an expression very similar to the one on Jonny's.
Benton sighed. "Okay. Then you need to get some sleep." He looked at both of them sternly. "And tomorrow you will both spend the day cleaning up that mess in there." He shook his head. "You certainly don't seem to have gotten very far with the packing. What were you doing while we were gone?" Jessie and Jonny exchanged a quick look.
Jessie said, "Well, there's been a lot going on at school recently." She rose and went to Benton Quest and gave him a hug. "Thanks for coming to the rescue, Dr. Quest."
He smiled at her fondly. "As long as you're both alright. Now off to bed - both of you."
Jonny rose. "'Night, Dad."
"Good night, son."
The two of them moved quietly past the rubble of the night's adventures and climbed the stairs slowly. Stopping near Jonny's bedroom door, they looked back again, briefly. A lot of things had gotten broken that night.
Jonny took a deep breath and said abruptly, "I've been a horse's you-know-what the last couple of weeks, Jess. I'm really sorry. I . . ."
Her hand covered his lips gently, and she shook her head. "Maybe we've both learned some hard lessons recently. Maybe one day we'll talk about them. But right now is probably not the time."
He looked at her for a minute, the pain clear in his eyes. "I've never seen you cry before . . . at least not like that . . . not when you weren't hurt."
She gazed at him with a look he couldn't read. "There are a lot of kinds of 'hurt', Jonny. Go to bed. We'll talk later." And she walked into her room and closed the door quietly.
Jonny stared at it for a long time before going in to bed.
Monday morning dawned bright, clear and cold. Race Bannon and Benton Quest sat over coffee while Jonny stood at the kitchen counter wolfing down a bowl of cereal. He looked at his watch and then raised his voice and yelled, "Hey, Jess. Come ON. We're going to be late for school if you don't get a move on. Mike will be here any minute."
Race rose and walked to the counter to refill his cup. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye as he waved the pot in Benton's direction and asked, "More, Ben . . ." He froze in mid-word, his mouth hanging open. Benton and Jonny stared at him and turned to see what he was looking at.
Jessie stood framed in the doorway, a coat over one arm, her other hand on her hip. Her hair hung loose and was brushed until it shown like fire. Her green, full sleeved blouse turned her eyes the color of faceted emeralds and her black leather skirt ended well above her knees, revealing a great deal of her very shapely legs. Jonny looked dazed. "Well, if we're going to be late, then let's go."
He shook his head as if to clear it, dumped his cereal bowl in the sink, and grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. A grin was starting to form on his face as he moved past his father. Benton could have sworn he heard a soft, "Slammin'!" as his son passed him heading for the door.
As Jessie turned and moved toward the front of the house, she smiled secretly to herself. People can think what they want, she thought, but MY parents didn't raise a fool!
© 1997, 2002 Debbie Kluge
DISCLAIMER: The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest and all characters, logos, and likenesses therein, are trademarks of and copyrighted by Hanna-Barbera Productions, Inc., and Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, Inc., a Turner company. No copyright infringement is intended by their use in this story. All other material, copyright 1997, 2002 by Deborah A. Kluge. All rights reserved. Characters and stories are in no way affiliated with, approved of or endorsed by Hanna Barbera or Turner Productions. This is created by a fan for other fans out of love and respect for the show, and is strictly a non-profit endeavor.