Asylum—Chapter 4
Jeff Tracy closed the line and turned to see his sons watching him, owl-eyed. Somehow Alan and Gordon had come into the lounge during the call. They stood next to Virgil in astonished silence.
"What is the problem?" Jeff asked irritably.
"Dad, I've never heard you sound so…evil," Alan said in a wondering tone.
Jeff nodded. "Think I pulled it off?"
"You convinced me," said Virgil. "What does the photo look like?"
Jeff picked up the photo of Scott and examined it, not liking what he saw. "Well, at least he's alive, if the kidnappers are to be believed."
Virgil took it and looked closely. "He's not doing so well. Look how his uniform is hanging on him. Before he was taken, I was kidding him that he'd either have to cut back on his desserts or get Grandma to make him a new one. I don't see any bruises, though."
Gordon took the photo from Virgil. "Not everything leaves bruises. I hope he remembers that emergency procedure we discussed."
Alan studied the photo in Gordon's hand. "You mean, you hope it works. We've always known your procedure is a risk. He may not feel safe enough to try it."
Gordon sighed. "Or desperate enough. I guess that's a good thing."
John's portrait lit up. "Go ahead, John," Jeff said. "Anything?"
John looked frustrated. "I'm sorry, Dad. I tried but I lost the trail. They had the line routed through about a dozen different countries."
"That's all right, son," said Jeff. "These people are professionals. I would expect them to have secured their phone systems." He turned to Gordon and Alan. "Have you had any luck with the tapes?"
Alan smiled and pulled out a tape. "We think so, Father. Take a look." He inserted the tape into his father's work station. "See that tall blonde guy, the one with the buzz-cut and the snarly expression? Well, he was at the rescue in Canada." He flipped to another picture. "And also in Japan," he forwarded to a different screen shot. "And in Mexico. In fact," Alan went on. "He's been at our last seven rescues. We were being studied the entire time."
"That's valuable information," Jeff said. "Good work, boys….Virgil, what's wrong?"
Virgil had gone white and was swaying where he stood. "Scott…he's in trouble…bad trouble…"
When Gleason left, Scott turned to face his torturer and crouched in a defensive position. It was one on one, now and he had a shot at defending himself. He didn't like the fact that Surly was a good two inches taller and fifty pounds heavier. And he had clothing, too. Damn..
Surly moved fast and ran at him like a freight train. Scott just dove away for the other end of the room, feeling pain in his bad leg when the tendon let go. He hit the floor and quickly picked himself up, limping.
"I've been waiting for this," Surly panted. "D'you think I enjoy being your maid?"
"I kind of guessed that being a hospital orderly wasn't your day job," Scott breathed. Bad enough his leg was unreliable, he was winded and felt dizzy, like the room was spinning. That drug, it must be kicking in. Shit, his one chance to get away and he'd better move fast. He looked around frantically for a weapon of some kind and his gaze fixed on the table with the hypodermics on it.
Unfortunately, Surly's eyes fixed there too. And he was closer. Surly grabbed a hypo and held it like a knife. Scott tried to circle, to get to the door but Surly was too fast. Scott was tackled from behind, inches before he could get to the door. He could feel the hypodermic stabbed into his shoulder and the world immediately began to spin faster. He felt himself dragged back to the chair and strapped firmly in.
When he looked up blearily, Surly was ten feet tall and looked meaner than ever. His voice boomed into Scott's ears. "The doc thinks he's a good interrogator but he's really fooling himself. We could have broken you days ago, so here's the deal. You talk or you hurt and I'll make you want to die. I'm not worried about damaging your resale value." Surly pulled away and fished in his pants for a pack of cigarettes and matches, lit one and began puffing.
Scott felt the terror grow and swirl around him; he'd never been so afraid. He struggled for breath and felt the sweat pop out on his forehead. His pulse tripled. Not real. Not real fear it's the drugs…
Surly swam into view again, the glowing cigarette between his fingers. "Okay, Flyboy, what's the secret of Thunderbird One's propulsion system?" he grated, then jabbed the cigarette down onto Scott's chest. "No answer? Let's try again. Same question: what's the secret of Thunderbird One's propulsion system?" This time he ground it in.
Forget being manly, there was nobody to hear him anyway, for the next hours or afternoon or a year, Scott screamed until his voice failed and he couldn't have answered if he wanted to.
….
Later
After a brief, blessed darkness, a bucket of water was poured over him. He looked up, panting, to see Surly put the bucket down and stand with arms folded, cigarette between his lips, crumpling the now empty cigarette pack. Surly blew the smoke into Scott's face and said, "Well? What's your answer?" He lifted the cigarette between his fingers and leaned in.
The actual idea had been Gordon's; he'd had the same interrogation training in the WASP as Scott had. They'd been taught that if you were tortured and knew you were about to break, (and everyone does, eventually) you must lie. And lie. And lie some more so that when you couldn't avoid telling the truth it would be mixed with so many lies, the information would be useless to the enemy. The brothers had discussed this possibility and made a plan for it with Scott's blessing. And only Gordon could have come up with such a set of preposterous engineering specs. This was it; he couldn't hold out any more.
"Flux capacitor," he said, his voice thin and grainy.
"What?" Surly leaned in.
"Flux capacitor. That's the secret to thunderbird technology," Scott said, eyes closed. "Each thunderbird machine has one. It's the central core of the engine." Mentally he crossed his fingers and hoped that Surly wasn't an antique movie fan.
Surly had gone back to the table and had grabbed a notepad. He returned and demanded, "How do you construct one?"
"We…buy them. Ready-made." Scott swallowed and paused until Surly held the cigarette threateningly. "We don't make them. The capacitor is wired into the power-system."
"Where do you get them?" Surly demanded.
Scott held his eyes closed turned his head away, then whispered again.
"What? Say it louder," Surly said.
"We buy them from Tracy Enterprises…They're the only ones who manufacture them…."
Surly looked skeptical. "If they're a common part, then everyone would be doing what you do. If you're lying to me…" He plucked the cigarette from his lips…
"Part isn't standard…and we have our own way of utilizing it. Nobody knows but us…" Scott kept an eye on the glowing tip of the cigarette and was relieved when Surly replaced the cigarette in his mouth.
"How?" Surly continued to scribble excitedly on his pad.
"Special order item," Scott said weakly. "It's in…the catalog. It's a universal capacitor….works in anything with a jet engine. Quadruples the power available to the engine…The installation method is….."
Jeff Tracy had given up trying to work; it was late anyway. He stood on the balcony with drink in hand, hoping to calm himself. The sheer rage that poured through his body after that phone call prevented any concentration. He had to work on that. If he couldn't concentrate, he couldn't plan and this required cold, hard thinking. The boys had gone to bed long ago but he doubted anyone was sleeping tonight.
He hoped that Virgil was mistaken about this psychic bond he was claiming with Scott, because if his son was right, Scott was running out of time. It had taken hours to calm Virgil down and persuade him to go to bed. International Rescue had always been a heavy burden, but tonight it felt crushing. He'd been contacted by multiple governments about reinstating service and had bluntly denied each one. He could only hope that if he created enough pressure, something would come to the surface.
He heard Lady Penelope's picture activate and moved back into the lounge area. "What is it, Penny?"
For once, Lady Penelope looked a bit mussed, but it was only evident to someone who knew her well. "Jeff, I have news," she said.
"Good, let's hear it," Jeff said.
"First, the analysis of the tape has turned up nothing of use, although I am continuing to try to identify your contact with facial recognition software. I have managed to acquire a list of those invited to bid at Scott's auction," she gave him a look of regret.
Jeff frowned. "I have a feeling I won't like the answer. Who do you have?"
"Aside from the usual CEO's, I also note the name of Belah Gaat, whom we have already identified as the saboteur who has been trying to acquire International Rescue technology for some years now," she said.
"Now that puts the cat among the pigeons," Jeff said, thoughtfully. "He's unlikely to wait until the auction to move on Scott. We need to move faster, but I don't see how. By the way, Penny, did you know that the boys have honed in on someone who has been watching our rescues?"
"Yes, Jeff, I received that information several hours ago. I am researching this person as well. I'll let you know what I discover."
"Thanks, Penny," Jeff replied and signed off.
Gleason walked into the Treatment Room to find Surly finishing a page of notes and his prisoner semi-conscious in the chair. "Well, now, how are things going?" Gleason asked.
Surly held up the pad of paper triumphantly. "We have a breakthrough," and handed it to Gleason. Gleason's eyes lit up as he read the notes. "Good. Very good." He eyed Scott and pursed his lips. "But you didn't use the interrogation protocols I outlined."
Surly shrugged. "Hey, the electric shock to the genitalia thing was over-kill. I decided to go old-school and it was effective, as you can see."
"I do see. Well done," Gleason set the pad down and walked over to his trembling prisoner. "I think you're ready to go back to your room, Scott." He retrieved the first hypo from the table and filled it with a clear solution and briskly injected it in his victim.
"Now Scott, remember," he said in a honeyed voice. "I'm your psychiatrist and I'm here to help you. You will remember my hypnotic suggestion and forget your prior life. You're in the asylum because you murdered your brother, remember? Good. Your father sent you here so that I could treat you. And you feel terribly guilty that you killed your brother….Okay, Gerald, you can take him back to his room now. Wait, you'd better re-dress him in his pajamas. The uniform stays here."
Surly unbuckled the restraints and quickly redressed an unresisting Scott in his pajama outfit, then dragged him out the door. Gleason was left looking at the notepad with great satisfaction.
Jeff looked up to see Tintin holding a cup of steaming coffee and a plate with a sandwich on it. "I know you're all worried, but you barely eat anymore," she said softly, putting the plate down.
He looked up gratefully. "Thanks, Tintin," and took a sip of the coffee. He didn't remember when he'd slept last and doubted he would until Scott was home. He rubbed his face wearily.
The office phone buzzed and his secretary's face appeared. "Hello, Jeannie, what's up?" Jeff straightened in his chair, trying to look alert.
"Good morning, Mr. Tracy," the brunette with glasses replied. "Are you okay, sir? If you don't mind my saying so, you look terrible."
Jeff faked a laugh and replied, "Just fighting off the flu, nothing important. How can I help you?"
Jeannie replied, "Oh, uh, I hope you feel better soon, sir. In any case, an unusual order has come in from the parts department. The note says to inform you directly whenever we get a request for a…she read slowly, 'flux…uh…capacitor'…"
Abruptly, Jeff's eyes widened and he sat up straight. "Really? That's very interesting. Can you give me the customer information?" He grabbed a pen and began writing. Feeling hope for the first time in days, he folded the paper with a smile. "Jeannie, tell the parts department to acknowledge the order and to advise the customer that we will fulfill their request as quickly as possible."
"I will, sir," Jeannie said. "You're starting to look better already."
"Oh yes," Jeff said, absently. "I'm starting to feel much better."
They had all gathered in the lounge: the Tracy sons, Jeff, Tintin and Brains. Lady Penelope was also present via communicator, as was John.
"I can't believe this actually worked," Virgil said. "Because of the security risk, we only ever intended it to be a last-ditch call for help. I mean, we discussed it and Gordon even made up fake engineering specs, but we always figured we'd never have to use it. It was almost a joke," Virgil said, eyeing the paper his father had handed around.
"It's a joke that will save your brother's life," Jeff commented. "Okay, Penny, I'm sure that this isn't the location where Scott's being held, but see what you can do to locate him. For the remainder, we need to plan what to do when we do find out where he is."
"Go in, guns blazing," suggested Alan.
"Not practical," said Gordon. "I mean, we don't know who else will be there or even if we'll be out-gunned."
"I've got an idea, Dad," said Virgil, slowly. "Here's what I think…"
