Title: Kidnap
Rating: FRT, for some swearing and violence. Scott Whump with angst for flavor.
Teaser: Scott goes to a reunion of his old Air Force squadron with dangerous results.
Disclaimer: The Tracys aren't mine, they (and all the other characters originally in Thunderbirds) were created by Gerry and Sylvia Anderson and are now the property of Granada Ventures. I am only borrowing them for a little while and promise to brush off the lint before I hand them back.
Author'sNote: This will be posted as a work in progress, translation: a WIP. I truly enjoy wip-ping my readers
Feedback: Yes, please. I write for feedback!
Okay to Archive: Yes!
Chapter 1
Bob's Rib House San Diego, California
Monday night
"Jeeze, Tracy!" The big man slapped Scott's back with a resounding thump. "We never see you anymore! This is the first reunion you've been able to make! Do you have to stay hidden on that island of yours?"
Scott grinned and dodged the next drunken back-slap. "I would if I could, Cooper, but I'm kinda busy. Y'know, the family business…"
"Yeah, yeah, we've heard all about that before. You gotta keep in good with your Dad and inherit the business some day,"
Slater approached and looked down his nose at both Scott and Cooper. "Remember, RichKid, I told you that you should've taken that job with NASA. You'd be in space right now, flying rockets. But no, family calls."
Cooper rubbed his nose, "C'mon, Slater, we decided a long time ago that Tracy was okay, even if his Dad's loaded. He's just Tracy now and has been for a long time."
Slater slugged back some beer, "Sorry about that, Tracy. You're a stand-up guy and that's the truth. But, you shoulda stayed in the Air Force and you'd be a bigwig by now, not just a siding salesman like me."
Scott held a hand up. "We've been over all this before, guys. I'm happy on my tropical island, thanks. As it happens, I don't want to be an astronaut. I've got my own aircraft and I get enough flying in as it is." He looked at his watch and set down his beer. "Anyway, I need to get going. I have some company business I have to take care of tomorrow anyway." He grinned. "But don't worry, I'll be at the next squadron reunion and what's more, I'll pay for the beer!" He grabbed his jacket and exchanged bear hugs with his buddies at the table. He made his way out of the restaurant and waved goodbye as he passed the window, the sound of his buddies' raucous laughter ringing in his ears.
Scott Tracy whistled as he made his way to his hotel. It was a beautiful San Diego night, the air came soft from the Pacific Ocean and even though it was winter time, the night was still Southern California comfortable. He missed the Air Force, most of the guys in his squadron had all gone on to become officers, those who didn't fly commercial jets. He was grateful that he hadn't run into any of them in his role as pilot for International Rescue. His cover would be shattered if he happened to rescue a flight piloted by an old buddy of his.
Oh well, that possibility was remote and he'd faced it before as had the rest of his already famous family. It was just as likely some racing fan would recognize Alan or an Olympics geek would recognize Gordon. So far, so good. Nobody had yet managed to break the family's cover as International Rescue.
Well, tomorrow he'd be doing some of his father's errands. There was a new part he needed to pick up at the machine-shop. Part of a new engine system for Thunderbird One that would make her faster and more fuel efficient. Brains had been insistent that this delicate part be picked up and hand-carried home, not shipped, no matter how well-packed. Then, a stop at Tracy Enterprises to pick up some confidential files for his father, something about trade secrets. Scott shrugged. He supposed that someday he and his brothers would end up running the company, but he truly hoped that wouldn't be for many years yet.
He looked up at the bright sign, "San Diego Hilton-Astoria", yep it was his hotel. He made his way up to his room, got to the elevator and punched the button for the 25th floor. A second man joined him in the elevator and selected the 30th, then stared into space ignoring Scott's presence.
The elevator was silent until the doors opened at 25. Scott got out and headed for his room, then noticed vaguely that the other man had gotten off the elevator too. He felt his shoulders tense. This didn't feel right. He scanned the hallway that ended in his room, a cul de sac. He didn't have any weapons; maybe he was overreacting…He reached for his electronic card-key and swiped it hurriedly. The door opened and Scott rushed inside, into the arms of another man.
The guy was big, Asian and at least three inches taller than Scott's six feet two and must have weighed 400 pounds. As the Asian grabbed at him, Scott elbowed him in the eye, then dove to his left to avoid the man's hands. A second body tackled him from behind and both pulled him to the ground, grunting with the force.
"I thought you said he was just a pilot, Pete?" said the big man, joining the struggle. "He's sure a damned fighter!" Scott felt the big man hold his shoulder down, and a meaty fist began to pound his chest. Scott felt himself begin to weaken as he gasped for breath.
"Just hold him down while I give him the drug, okay?" muttered the other man, Pete, as Scott supposed. The big man stopped punching and held Scott down while Pete fished a hypodermic out of his pocket. "Don't worry, flyboy, this won't hurt a bit!" Pete said and jabbed it into Scott's neck.
"Hey! Who the Hell are you?" yelled Scott. "Whaaaaaa…" his voice faded away as darkness overtook him. The last thing he heard was "Well, he better by damned be worth it. The bastard broke my watch!"
Hours later
Scott awoke into a darkness that smelled of motor oil and old garbage. His hands were zip-tied behind his back and, he tried to move, yes his ankles too. What the Hell had happened? Two men…his hotel room. Crap, he'd been kidnapped. His head was covered with a bag that felt like burlap, but he could feel the motion of travel and hear traffic passing. On a freeway, he thought. How long had he been out? No way of knowing, but he'd been well trained. He reached for his watch to activate a tracking signal…and found the watch gone.
They had taken his watch. His family couldn't track him now; they'd never know where he'd disappeared to. "Hey!" he shouted angrily. "Who the Hell are you and what's going on?"
"So, sleeping beauty is awake finally," a rough voice came from beside him. What was his name? Pete. "Don't make me wish we'd gagged you, Tracy, or you'll regret it." A laugh. "The boss thought you'd be stubborn, but you gave Loyo a black eye. He's not happy about that."
Scott consciously gulped down his outrage and lowered his voice. "Okay, you're the one in control here. Would you mind telling me what it is you want from me? Maybe I can get you whatever it is you want and you can let me go. My wallet is in my pants pocket, you're welcome to it if you want it."
The other man laughed hoarsely. "We don't want your wallet. Why do you think we bothered knocking you out so we could smuggle you out of the hotel? We want you! We should be there soon and you'll meet the boss. I know he's been looking forward to seeing you!"
Wednesday
Jeff Tracy was grateful for an age that allowed him to run a large conglomerate from his home on Tracy Island. If he'd had to go into an office on a daily basis, he knew it would have driven him crazy long since. TinTin made a great secretary, he had a direct computer connection to the company mainframes and with a daily mail plane, he could accomplish most of what needed to be done without travelling to his main office in Los Angeles. The phone on his desk buzzed and he hit the button.
"Jeff Tracy. Can I help you?" he said.
A thin, dark haired man in a suit appeared on the screen, his demeanor saying 'corporate lawyer'.
"Hey, Jeff, it's Irwin at the home office. Can you tell us when your son is going to pick up those documents for your signature? He didn't show up yesterday, even though the office staff stayed late waiting for him."
Jeff frowned. Scott knew that the documents had time value and had planned to get them by Tuesday afternoon at the latest. And Scott was reliable. "Did you hear from him at all?" he asked.
"Not a word. We did try calling him at the number you gave us, but there was no answer. And his hotel said he'd left already. Should I have these couriered over to you after all?"
"We have a few more days on it, don't we? I'll call you back. I may send a different courier to pick them up but I'll confirm with you first. Tracy out." Jeff Tracy stared at the blank screen for a moment or two. Scott was reliable but accidents did happen….He pushed another button on the desk and put through a call to Scott and got no answer. His next call was to John on Thunderbird Five.
"Hi, Father," said John's picture, "What's up?"
"Have you heard from Scott, by any chance, in the last day or two?" Jeff asked, trying to keep his voice calm. No point in worrying yet. Scott was a grown man and was allowed to have a weekend bender if he wanted to…
John frowned, "No, nothing lately. Wasn't this going to be his big weekend with his old squadron? Is something wrong?"
Jeff shook his head, "No, we've just lost contact with him, that's all. He's probably sleeping off his fun somewhere."
"That's not like Scott, Father," John said. "He's never been much of a drinker and he's never out of touch with base for very long. Do you want me to keep an ear out for him?"
"I'd appreciated that, John," Jeff said. "Let me know if you hear anything. I'm sure it's nothing very serious…he's just delayed."
"FAB, Father. I'll let you know if I hear anything at all," said John and signed out.
"What's going on?" asked Alan, wandering through the lounge with tennis racquet in hand. "Is Scott okay?"
"What? Yes, I'm sure he is," Jeff turned to his youngest son. "I'm just overreacting a bit, that's all. So, you're still trying to beat Gordon?"
Alan smirked. "Oh yeah, Gord won't know what hit him when he sees my new overhand. I'll see you later, Dad."
Jeff waved as Alan left the room and turned back to his papers, but for the life of him couldn't shake a niggling little doubt in the back of his mind. He put through a call to the Hilton-Astoria Hotel in San Diego.
"Oh yes, Mr. Tracy, Scott Tracy was here for the weekend. His room was vacated early Tuesday morning. He left a note asking that his luggage be held for pick up," the hotel manager said fawningly. "You know that we greatly value your family's business and will do our best to ensure a memorable stay."
"Was Scott with anyone the day he left?" Jeff asked, hopefully. "Old friends or anyone? Did he tell anyone where he was going?"
"No, sir, he just left a note. No one saw him leave that I'm aware of. I can pull the security video if you'd like," the hotel manager began to look nervous. Had they displeased this very wealthy (and lucrative) customer?
"Yes, please queue it up," said Jeff crisply. "And I'd like to talk to your hotel security manager."
The film was grainy. Jeff wondered if anyone produced a good quality security video, but he could make out the man following Scott from the elevator and then pushing him into his hotel room. The door slammed shut behind them both. Running the tape forward two hours showed two men hauling a third down the hall and into the elevator. Jeff Tracy took a deep breath and let it out. That was it, then. Somebody had Scott, and had held him for two days. God only knew what could have happened to him in the intervening time.
The Tracy sons, Brains, Kyrano and Tintin all came running to the lounge at the sound of the emergency buzzer. Virgil was there first, skidding to a stop at the desk. He hadn't seen his father looking this grim for a very long time. "What's wrong, Father?" Virgil asked, looking around as Alan and Gordon arrived panting for breath. Jeff said nothing until John's picture lit up. "I'm here, Father. What is it?" John said.
"Are we under attack or something?" Alan demanded. "You only ring that buzzer when there's a dire emergency. Are we on fire?"
"Boys, I'm very afraid that your brother Scott has been kidnapped by persons unknown. He's been gone since late Monday night, which puts it at two days since he was taken," Jeff's voice faltered.
"Has there been a ransom demand?" Virgil asked. "Who would want to take Scott?"
Jeff's face grew graver, "That's just what worries me. There has been no ransom demand, which makes me think that they want him for something other than money."
All four Tracy sons went silent, exchanging meaningful glances. No one wanted to say it, but it was on everyone's mind. Brains finally broke the silence. "Scott helped m-me d-d-design Thunderbird One. He knows…"
"Too much," whispered Virgil. "He knows too much, including the location of this island."
"He wouldn't tell," Alan stated angrily. "He'd die before he gave away International Rescue secrets."
Jeff Tracy looked sadly at his sons, "Any man can be forced to tell his secrets, given enough time and…persuasion. No," he raised his hand at Alan's protest. "He's strong and has had training in the military to withstand questioning but even if he survives the experience, he may not be the Scott we know anymore. We have to find him, fast! Brains?"
"Y-y-yes, Mr. Tracy?" Brains asked.
"I want you to examine the security video that shows both of Scott's kidnappers. Virgil, I want you and Alan to fly to San Diego. Search through Scott's luggage, interview his Air Force buddies and examine the note they said Scott left. Look for anything, anything that might tell you where they took him and who they are."
He looked up at John's worried face, "John, I want you to comb the internet for anything you can find out about Scott's kidnapping. Run background checks on the hotel employees. Follow up on Scott's squadron buddies. Until Scott is found, International Rescue is grounded."
