Ch 9
As the jet neared France, the three Tracy brothers sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Scott, the pilot, set his mind on the plan of action they would take once they arrived. Occasionally his thoughts would waver to Gordon and where the hell he could possibly be. Scott was the big brother, always setting his younger brothers on their feet if they fell. When Gordon was gravely injured, Scott had sat by his bed, held his hand and willed his brother to be strong but now...Gordon was gone, who knew where, and all Scott could do was keep willing his brother to be strong, and hope...hope somehow his brother would get Scott's messages of strength.
Co-pilot, Virgil, studied the clouds; his head was filled with music that calmed him and stilled his sorrow for his lost brother. Gordon and he had not parted on the best of terms. Two days before Gordon left on his holiday, Virgil had returned from a gruelling rescue and was relaxing while listening to some jazz. Gordon's room was next to his, and his younger brother absolutely hated Jazz. Tempers flared and nerves were on edge as the two brothers fought a duel with music. Gordon turned up his preferred grunge music on his stereo, Virgil responded by turning up the jazz. Grunge, jazz, grunge, jazz. The stereos were cranked up by each brother until there was no more music, only horrible noise. The clash of music genres only ended when John, trying to enjoy his last few days on Tracy Island, stormed into their rooms and ripped the Stereo cords from the sockets. For a moment there was a stunned silence. It was broken by Virgil taking up his clarinet and playing a jazzy tune. Swearing loudly, a furious Gordon stomped out of his bedroom, and made his way to the pool. The brothers managed a civil goodbye before Gordon departed Tracy Island the day after.
More than anything, Virgil wanted to grab Gordon and bear hug him, say sorry, and to promise never again to part in such a stupid, childish way.
Alan sat in the cabin of the plane, a laptop computer on his knees. The young man studied the directory of Paris' streets, trying to pinpoint the exact location of the trio from the bar. John had provided the address the three usually used when in the city, the apartment home of Mia and Piers Willoughby's mother. Alan kept returning to the photo of the three; he scrutinised their every detail, wanting to be able to recognise them as soon as they reached the address. Entwined with his feelings of loss and fear for his missing brother, Alan was also angry. Angry someone had even thought of harming Gordon. If only they knew how many times Gordon had put his life on the line to save people, he didn't deserve this crap. Alan was determined to find Gordon, and equally determined to bring his abductors to justice.
Two men faced each other at the end of a grassy airstrip running like a long slash in the thick tropical jungle. Both men wore black, one man was white, tall and heavy set; the other was short in stature, bespectacled, and of Asian appearance.
The taller of the two swiped his brow with the back of his hand, the beads of sweat splattered onto the ground. "It's like an oven, mate."
The second man smirked a little at the big man's discomfort; the heat did not bother him. "We hope you did not have trouble finding us?"
"Nah, our pilot's the best in the business," the man jerked his head in the direction of the plane. "Won't take too much more time. The nurse is just prepping Tracy for the handover."
Presently, two more men carried a sedated Gordon in a stretcher out of the plane. A plumpish woman in white hovered in the plane's doorway, watching the men carry Gordon to a waiting roofless jeep before disappearing back into the cabin.
With the assistance of the jeep's driver, the stretcher bearers secured it across the back of the vehicle and then returned to the plane.
The larger of the men looked to the smaller. "He's all yours. Tell your man to stick to the rules Control has set out otherwise there will be consequences." The man clapped a hand to the gun at his hip to emphasise his words.
The second man's eyes narrowed behind his round glasses, and he gave a quick bow. "Before you depart, sir, please as a token of our appreciation I present you with a gift." The man snapped his fingers at the jeep's driver who rushed over to the men carrying a wooden statue. The driver pressed the statue into the hands of the taller man and bowed as he retreated to the vehicle.
"A statue of our honoured goddess Eresh," the smaller man explained. "She will give you much luck. Tell your Master my Master will reward him many times."
Taken aback by the sudden appearance of the gift, the tall man could only manage a grunt in reply. The wooden statue was hideous. The man couldn't help but stare at the statue's bulging glass eyes which flashed red in the strong sunlight. The dazzling eyes of the statue, and the suffocating heat combined to dull the tall man's senses, and he could only nod when the bespectacled man spoke very softly into his ear.
The sudden roar of the jet's engines coming to life jolted the large man out of his stupor. After a quick nod goodbye, the tall man tucked the statue under his arm and entered the jet. The plane then taxied down to the opposite end of the grass runway, before soaring up over the jungle into the clear blue sky.
The smaller man's smile remained as he watched the plane fly into the distance. He then walked over to the unconscious Tracy, and tapped the young man's cheek. The aquanaut groaned slightly. "Waking soon, excellent. Don't want to be sleeping when meeting the Master."
The man climbed into the front passenger seat of the jeep, and barked an order at the driver, who quickly gunned the engine and drove the vehicle into the depths of the jungle.
The phone rang on Hugo's desk. He picked it up. "Control here.
"Team Leader reporting, Control. The item has been delivered and we are in the air on the way back to the Eastern safe house."
"Good, good. I presume the handover went smoothly."
"No problems, Control. They even gave us a parting gift."
"Gift?" Hugo was surprised. "What sort of gift?"
"A statue of the Goddess – Ernest or was it Ersh? I'm not sure of the name but the player's contact said you would be rewarded many times. I guess the statue is a reward of some sort. If you ask me, The Goddess wouldn't win any beauty contests, her eyes are enormous...hang on, would you look at that!"
Hugo felt a creeping sense of unease. "Team leader, what's wrong? Tell me what's happening?"
"The statue, Control. Its eyes are glowing red...I can't understand why its eyes...its eyes..."
"What's wrong with the statue, Team leader? Answer me! What is wrong with the statue?" Hugo yelled into the receiver.
There was no reply; Hugo heard the clatter of what he guessed was Team leader's phone dropping to the floor.
Gripping his phone closer to his ear, Hugo could hear a voice rise in alarm.
"What's wrong with Bob? Where's he going?"
Hugo jumped as he heard the short sharp retort of gun shots.
"He's shot the pilot! Oh Jesus Christ!"
Hugo heard a low agonised moaning amidst the screams and shouts of what sounded like absolute chaos in the plane's cabin.
"Team leader, report! Team Leader!" Hugo yelled into his receiver until his voice grew hoarse.
He listened in sheer horror as the scream of the plane's terrified occupants grew in chorus with the shriek of jet engines going into a dive – then nothing.
The phone dropped from his nerveless fingers. Hugo's heart slammed against his chest in shock. Grabbing the phone he dialled the plane's number. No reply. He hit redial. Nothing. Frustrated Hugo flung the phone away. It smashed into pieces on the wall.
Another phone rang on his desk. The phone reserved for the players. Trying to control his shaking hands, Hugo answered the call.
"Control."
"No need for formalities, Hugo, at this stage of the game," A mocking voice responded.
Hugo couldn't contain the rage in his voice. "You killed my people. You destroyed my plane. What is your name goddamn it!! What is your f...ing name?!"
"My men call me the Master, others call me God; you choose one."
"Don't you dare play games with me, you –"
The voice was suddenly savage. "I don't want to play your game anymore, Hugo. Now I have the Tracy boy, I don't need you or your game. In fact, I'm taking over and inventing a new game with new rules. Game rule number one – get rid of the old players. Goodbye Hugo."
The line went dead.
Hugo replaced the receiver. He sat stunned for a few moments before rallying and quickly logging onto his computer. The new player was dangerously insane and he knew where Hugo lived; worse still, he knew how to get into the grounds of the Chateau. He wasn't safe lingering in this room but he had to warn the others. Hugo had colours in order of seriousness that he issued if there was ever a breach within the game. The colour he issued now was the most serious. A screen of red told all players and their teams that the Game was over and their lives were at risk.
His dogs barking outside gave rise to panic, and Hugo worked feverishly to complete his task. He needed to destroy all evidence. Before Hugo pressed the button that would cause the computers to whitewash their databases, Hugo downloaded important and highly sensitive information onto memory sticks. His computers were extremely fast but still it took precious time. The intercom buzzer rang to his front gate. Hugo jumped. No, it was too soon. Much too soon. Finally, the download was completed and he began to destroy the sensitive information. The buzzer sounded again. He heard a familiar voice in the intercom.
"Hugo, let me in old man. It's Luc."
Relief washed over Hugo. He pocketed the downloaded material and flicked on the monitor to the gate CCTV. Luc was waving at the camera, his car behind him. His friend was alone.
Hugo buzzed Luc into the Chateau's grounds.
Luc's smiling face on his doorstep was a welcome sight compared to the nightmare that had just passed. Hugo hugged his friend and ushered him inside. Luc shrugged off his coat, and slapped his friend on the back.
"I haven't heard from you, Hugo. I wanted to see you before I left for Florida."
Hugo nodded impatiently, his eyes kept darting to the windows of the house. "You didn't see anyone out there, did you, Luc?"
Luc shook his head and gave a short laugh at his friend's display of nerves. "Police finally catch up with you, did they? You rogue!"
"No, no nothing like that," Hugo waved his friend into the front sitting room. "Come in, I want to tell you something."
Luc nodded and followed Hugo into the room. Hugo showed Pierre to a seat before taking one opposite his friend.
"I'm in trouble, Luc, and I need your help."
Puzzled by the seriousness of his long-time friend, Luc leaned in close. "Anything you need, Hugo, you know I'll always help you."
Hugo smiled gratefully at Luc's response. "Thank you my friend." Hugo took a deep breath before continuing, "The game is over. Completely finished. We have had..." Hugo paused searching for the right word. "Complications."
Luc's mouth opened in surprise at Hugo's words. "The game is over. How is that so? Wasn't the game soaring to a whole new level? New players, new possibilities?"
Hugo shook his head. "The game has been hijacked by a mad man, and I have handed him an innocent person on a silver platter."
"Surely, not the billionaire's son?"
Suddenly feeling very tired, Hugo wearily nodded his head. "Luc, my friend. I need to give you something," Hugo drew out the downloaded data from his pocket and gave it to a bewildered Pierre.
"I am in serious danger, as are you if you do not leave here soon. The new player is very dangerous, and I believe will kill anyone associated with the Game. What I have given you is information on the player and the billionaire's son. I need you to take it and give it to the billionaire, Jeff Tracy. He needs to find his son as soon as possible."
Luc looked to the memory sticks and then to his friend. His face was pale under the light of a nearby lamp. "W...what about you Hugo? What are you going to do now?"
Hugo stood and gestured for Luc to stand also. "I am going to take you out of the Chateau safely, and you will take Charlotte and the children as far away from here as possible. Then you must contact the Tracys as soon as it is safe to do so. Now come!"
Gathering Luc's coat and a torch from the front hallway, Hugo led Luc into the bowels of the Chateau. Luc remembered from his teenage years, the old rambling building having many secret passages and boltholes. Hugo showed Luc into a rarely used room. The room's contents were shrouded in white sheets. Pushing on a panel above a cobwebbed fireplace, a trapdoor sprung ajar in the middle of the hearth. Hugo gave Luc the torch and motioned for Luc to enter what looked like a dark stone passageway.
"This tunnel will take you out of the Chateau grounds. Leave your car here, Luc, it will be safer for you to get a taxi."
Luc nodded, and was two steps down into the tunnel before he turned and noticed Hugo was not following. "Hugo? Are you coming?"
Hugo shook his head. "I've decided Luc; I will not flee my home. Now, the game is over it is all I have left . But you must go and see to your family, Hurry!"
Luc reached up and gave Hugo's hand a last shake before disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel.
The sound of the Chateau's doorbell startled Hugo as he hurried back to his study. Surely Luc hadn't returned? Quickly he entered his study and accessed the visuals to the camera that was stationed above the Chateau's front door. There was no one there. He had heard the doorbell ring? Hadn't he? Or was he so spooked that he was starting to hear things? Hugo turned away from the monitor and set about dismantling the many computers in the room. The doorbell rang again. Wild-eyed the
man crossed to the monitor and peered into it. Again, there was no one there. Just to make sure, Hugo grabbed his handgun from the top drawer of his office desk, and headed down to the front door.
"Who's there? Luc, is it you?" Hugo's pressed his face next to the heavy door, nervously waiting for a reply.
The doorbell rang again. Hugo nearly jumped out of his skin. He shouted, "Who is it? Goddamn it, who's at the front door."
A wailing wind was the only response.
Trembling, Hugo raised the gun, and slowly, slowly opened the front door. A squat ugly statue sat staring up at him on his front step. Terrified, the man went to shut the door but then the statue's eyes began to glow, and Hugo found he couldn't look away.
