Still don't own any of it. Just love it all to pieces.

Enjoy!


"Hey, Ponchita! Got that book on sights in Istanbul?" Race called over his shoulder.

"Yeah, just a sec!" Jessie yelled back, digging furiously through her knapsack. Pulling out both the book in question and her camera, she darted back to where her father had been tearing apart his own luggage.

"Here you go, dad," she said. She eyed the mess he'd strewn over his bed but said nothing – nobody could make a wreck out of a suitcase faster than Race Bannon, doubly so when already in a hotel room and therefore all available surfaces were fair game for flying items.

"Thanks. What's that for?"

"Oh! Be right back!"

Jessie darted out of the room she was sharing with her dad this trip (as the hotel only had space to give them two rooms and there was no power in the world that would make Jessie share with the boys) and nearly careened into Dr Quest as she ducked into their next-door room.

"Sorry!" she called behind her, even as she brought up the camera.

"Jess! That is not helpful!"

"Oh, sure it is!" Hadji laughed.

Jessie gleefully snapped a few shots of Jonny, red-faced, hopelessly trapped in the coverlet from the bed, halfway lodged under the mattress, with Bandit licking his face and trying to get his tongue in his favorite person's ear.

"Do I want to know?" Race asked, poking his head in.

"No!" Jonny cried. "Bandit, stop that! It tickles...I can't...will you quit it...I'm trying to..."

"Jonny was attempting a new judo technique while I was unpacking," Hadji explained cheerfully. "I was surprised and must not know my own strength. Then Bandit got involved and..." he waved at the result.

"Don't know your own strength! You did this on...purpose...ahh Bandit!"

"As much as it amuses me to see my son so nicely hogtied and spending such quality time with his dog," Dr Quest grinned, "it is just about dinner time. So perhaps we should extricate him so we can all go find something to eat?"

With Dr Quest distracting Bandit, it was the work of a moment to free Jonny from the coverlet, and the work of a few more moments for him to get all the dog drool out of his hair and ears. But soon enough they were on their way to a nearby restaurant. Seated around the table in the cozy atmosphere, they turned to the events to come.

"So, Dr Quest," Jessie asked, "what's the schedule for tomorrow?"

"Well, technically the symposium starts at 10, but I had a very interesting call just before we left home, so I think I'll be a bit late."

"A call? From who?" Race wanted to know.

"Iria Winner."

"Winner? As in WEI?" Jonny was impessed.

"Of course. I knew Zayeed Winner many years ago. We had much in common, and I fully supported his pacifistic views and his attempts to encourage others to adopt them. We weren't exactly close friends, but we respected one another and I always enjoyed our conversations."

"Didn't Zayeed Winner die during the Eve wars? Something to do with his satellite?" Jessie asked.

"It's worse than that, kiddo," Race shook his head. "His own people opened fire on him because he wouldn't let his resources be used to manufacture weapons. They said later it was an accident, but I don't buy it. He was killed because he wouldn't put profit over people's lives."

"I believe you're right," Benton said sadly. "Iria was his eldest daughter. Zayeed was always a traditionalist, so all his assets and his position went to his son, Quatre. I'd met Iria several times, but she was a younger woman then. Now she's a part of the business herself."

"Quatre Winner? Now him I'd recognize," Jessie said. "He's only on the cover of half the magazines in existence every other month. Youngest CEO in history, and one of the wealthiest people on Earth or in the colonies."

"Not a fan, are you Jess?" Jonny teased.

"No! But you can't not have heard of him!" she protested.

"So what did Mrs Winner want?" Hadji asked politely.

"Well, as a matter of fact, she asked if I would be willing to meet with Quatre Winner for breakfast tomorrow morning. She said that Quatre has been working to take over his father's role and could use some advice. As a favor to my old friend, I agreed."

"That," Race smiled knowingly, "and you're just as curious as Jessie about him."

"Well, perhaps a bit. He's not much different in age from you three," he nodded at them, "but with so much on his shoulders I cannot imagine the pressure he must be under. I would like to see how much of his father is in him, and if there's something I can do to help keep Zayeed's hopes for the future alive through his son, I feel I owe him that."

"So you'll be late to the symposium?" Jonny was ducking Jessie's glare and happily changed the subject.

"Yes. Only by a little. I haven't heard anything about my being needed for the opening ceremonies and all that sort of thing, so I'm just as glad to avoid the unnecessary spectacle. Besides, perhaps by then a few of my colleagues will have arrived – I haven't seen anyone yet."

"Well, it's early yet," Race nodded. "All you scientists are the same. Fashionably late as always."

"Better not be late tomorrow, Dr Quest," Hadji put in. "We'll meet you in the hotel for lunch after your breakfast with Mr Winner and the first events of the day, if that's all right. I think Jonny and I have a bit more judo training to do!"

Everyone laughed, and they settled into a comfortable dinner before the coming busyness of the symposium would separate them.

-==OOO==-

Dr Benton Quest was nothing if not perceptive, so picking one particular person out of a crowd was no trouble for him. In spite of that, however, when he approached Quatre Raberba Winner, he had the distinct feeling that if the young CEO didn't want to be seen, he wouldn't be. For all that he was tirelessly famous, no one seemed to be giving him a second glance; there was something in his manner that made him seem like an expected part of the background. He was seated at a small table under an awning for the coffee shop chosen as their meeting place, a thick briefcase on the ground beside him. His suit was impeccable, but his manner wasn't that of a spoiled aristocrat, nor of an exhausted and overwhelmed child, though he could have legitimately been both.

Standing to greet Dr Quest, the Arab flashed a bright smile.

"Dr Quest? It's an honor to meet you. I'm Quatre Winner."

"I hope you haven't been waiting long," Benton said, shaking the offered hand warmly. "I was a bit delayed escaping the hotel this morning." He smiled a bit, remembering Bandit's morning antics. He believed that dog would be 50 before he'd stop acting like a puppy.

"Not at all. Thank you so much for meeting me on such short notice." The blond smiled again, then moved to sit, simultaneously summoning a barista to order something for Dr Quest.

When they both had steaming cups of strong, rich coffee before them, Benton began with the usual pleasantries about the symposium and this surprise at fact that Quatre would be in attendance as well; he had professed a love of may different disciplines, and Dr Quest could only agree.

"Mr Winner," and it did feel odd calling someone his son's age "mister" but he had certainly earned it given his role in WEI, "I do want to say I'm so sorry about the loss of your father. Zayeed Winner was a good man, and I'm sure he is very much missed."

"Thank you for saying so," he replied gently. "My father and I did not always see eye-to-eye, but he was a good man and his intentions were honest. He believed in peace, and I have tried to do the same in his stead."

"So I've heard," Benton nodded. "WEI is doing very well, and the charitable projects to continue rebuilding after all the conflict is as fine a memorial as any I can think of."

"It's something like this that brings me here today," Quatre shifted into a more professional tone. "My sister believes that your past association with our father means you might be open to working with us, should your interests and ours converge."

"I believe that would be possible. I advised Zayeed a time or two in the past, after all," Dr Quest smiled. This was a suave young man indeed. "Did you have something in mind?"

"Not at present, but if something comes about..."

He trailed off suddenly, and Benton, following his line-of-sight, turned just in time to see the beginnings of a fireball billowing out the large front entrance of his hotel.

The explosion rocked the cafe, even though they were more than a block away. Quatre, moving with surprising speed, had grabbed Dr Quest's arm and thrown them both behind the table for cover, thus sparing them any flying debris.

"What happened?" Dr Quest asked, rubbing his head and looking around.

"Those were high-grade explosives," Quatre said, eyes hardening. "No accident and certainly no amateurs. And," as he turned to the still shaken man, "probably they're after you or me. We're the statistically most likely targets. It's pure luck neither of us was inside. No one knew we were meeting here before attending the symposium."

"My family," Dr Quest stood up. "They're still inside. We have to get to them."

"We will. I promise." Quatre picked up his briefcase and strode around the corner, his movements controlled and utterly calm. It took Dr Quest a moment to overcome his own shakiness and follow.

"But the authorities...there's no way they'll send a force in until they know what they're dealing with. And if those terrorists or whoever they are start with hostages..."

He trailed off after taking in the change he saw in Quatre. The young man had settled down with his laptop on his knees and was typing almost too fast to be believed; from what he could see, Benton surmised he was connecting his laptop to some kind of secure network. A moment later, he pulled an earpiece from the bag and clipped it in place.

"Zero Four to Zero Five. Do you copy?"

"Copy, Zero Four. What's happened? You don't use this signal without an emergency," came a voice.

"Attack at the symposium in Istanbul. I am on site with probably the most likely target for the attack other than myself. However, there are hostages inside of value to the target and," he glanced quickly at Dr Quest before saying, "I don't think he's going to wait for the cavalry."

"I understand. The report is coming in now. From what I can see, I agree with your assessment."

"Zero Five, get the case. Something tells me this is one for us and we'll need official authorization."

"Acknowledged."

"Zero Four to Zero Three."

"Zero Three here." A different voice from the first, also male, and rather clipped.

"Are you monitoring?"

"Always."

"I'm going to have to go in there and get Dr Quest's family out. We cannot allow them to be used as leverage against Dr Quest. And if we wait for the locals, there's no telling what the terrorists will do in the meantime. I'm going to need an extraction, probably under fire. Use whatever you need to set it up."

"I'll handle it. Zero Four..." the words trailed off, a note of doubt in his voice. But Quatre didn't stop to listen.

"Zero Four to Zero One and Zero Two."

"Zero One. I'm already hacking the hotel's security. I'll have visuals in 30 seconds." If the second voice was clipped, this one was chipped from an ice block it was so flat and if not cold, devoid of sentiment.

"Figures you were spying on him already. Zero Two in," came a new chuckle, bright and cheery. "I take it we're going to be on call for a few days?"

"Sounds like it. All accounted for; I'm opening the channel. In case any of you weren't already monitoring, I'm going in to retrieve the family of the primary target. Zero Three will arrange for transport and extraction. Zero Five is handling the official matters. Zero One will back me on security. Everyone, if you haven't already, start your preparations to join us. We'll rendezvous at Rock Island."

Dr Quest rarely found himself entirely dumbstruck, but this was one of those moments. Mere minutes ago he had been speaking with the suave and confident CEO of WEI. Now, instead of the Quatre Winner who had smiled at him over a cup of expensive coffee, he was looking at something else entirely. This boy – and he was a boy, Benton remembered with a bit of a start, not much older than Jonny – was obviously far more than a business prodigy.

But as he began talking through the logistics of what he obviously intended to do while arranging some security to look after the "target" in the meantime, Benton cleared his throat.

"Excuse me. Mr Winner? I'm sure you've got everything in hand," he gestured at the screen, half of which was already showing live feed from inside the hotel and the other half of which displayed what could only be the blueprints for the building (and how he had gotten them so fast Benton would love to know). "But you're not going in without me. That's my family. So please take that into consideration."

"Dr Quest, that is highly inadvisable. The risk to yourself would be great."

"Listen to me, Mr Winner. That is my family. We've been through a lot, and we're none of us afraid of danger. But if you think I'm going to sit here and wait while you try to sneak into a hotel-jacking by terrorists, by yourself, to find my family, you're wrong on all counts. Now, I'm coming with you, and that's that," he said in his best no-arguments-will-be-tolerated tone.

"I assure you, I can handle myself." But there was a light of challenge in his bright eyes. "But it is true that your presence would save me a fair amount of convincing on the part of your family."

"Zero Five to Zero Four."

"Go ahead."

"Authorization acquired. You have a go for whatever you need to do. But," and there was hesitation in the voice, "if you do decide to take an untrained civilian in there, I can't get you authorization for him to have live rounds." He'd said "untrained civilian" the way someone might say "worthless slug."

"I expected as much. However, I am prepared, as you well know."

"Zero One in. If you think the target would not be a risk to the mission, decide to take him and go. I have located his family. As of now, they have not been found by the intruders. You should try to reach them before anyone else does."

"Zero Two in. I've got transport to Earth, but I'm hours out. You're going to have to do your breaking and entering without me. Sorry about that. Make me proud!"

"Zero Three in. I'm working on the extraction. Just tell me when you've got a clear place for pickup. And don't do anything you'll regret."

"Acknowledged. Okay. I'm switching to the headset now. Dr Quest?" He opened his briefcase and clicked a hidden latch, releasing a false bottom. To the scientist's surprise, the compartment was stocked with weaponry. A small pistol was loaded with a red clip and handed to him. "Can you use this? It's just a neuro-suppressant tranquilizer."

"I know how to fire a gun, yes," Benton replied uneasily. He didn't voice the question in his mind, though – "Why do you know how to fire a gun?"

To his surprise, the young CEO expertly loaded and checked another gun with the same red cartridge, and then one with a more ominous black one. He tucked both out of sight in his suit-coat. He then packed the laptop back into the bag and pulled at the broad shoulder-strap. A moment later, the briefcase had been converted to a close-fitting backpack.

"Zero Four to Zero One. Current location of Dr Quest's family?" After a pause, "Then I'll want to use the western stairwell. Which conference room is empty?" He nodded curtly. "Exactly my plan. Keep an eye on the target's family so I don't end up chasing them throughout the building."

"Dr Quest?" The Arab turned his intense eyes up and Benton wondered if he was going mad. "I need you to trust me. I do know what I'm doing. I've got help and backup ready for when we need it. I will get your family out, I promise. Are you sure you want to come with me?"

"Yes, I'm sure." It might be the only thing he was sure of, but better that than nothing. "But, Mr Winner..."

"Call me Quatre," he smiled. "And yes, I'm certain we're going to have a very long conversation after this is done. But only after we get your family and yourself to safety. Now, come with me. We're going to get in through the conference rooms on the ground floor on the west side. We need to move."

As Benton fell in behind Mr Winner, Quatre, he looked at the gun in his hands. Race would know better than he, but even not being an expert he was pretty sure this was not a standard model. He shook himself. This was no time to focus on the wrong details. He was about to follow a boy into a very dangerous situation, a situation that, by rights, he should be keeping said boy from at all costs. But there was a note of command when Quatre spoke, one that almost compelled him to follow. And, as he had no way of getting his family to safety without help, he supposed he could only trust that the competence he'd seen so far extended to whatever they were about to encounter.