In Too Deep – Chapter Ten
Jeff Tracy was many things: world renowned astronaut, successful businessman, hot-shot pilot, self made billionaire. He was all of them and he was damned good at being them too.
But there had always been a part of him that was more significant than the businessman or the astronaut. A part of him that took precedence over everything else and had done from the moment he'd first cradled his eldest son in his arms. Because above and beyond the astronaut and the businessman, Jeff Tracy was something much more important; he was a father.
Not wanting to go too far from the lounge in case there was any news, he'd opted for the soothing sounds of the sea and ended up out on the balcony, thinking. Thinking had soon turned to brooding and before long, the philosophising had started as past and present collated to flood his mind with unwanted contemplation.
The hardest thing about putting his life-long ambitions for International Rescue into operation had been asking his sons to put their lives on the line. The fact that they put just as much effort into the organisation as he did was of little comfort at times like this. From the moment they were born, his children had always been Jeff Tracy's top priority. He was a family man and it showed. One of the things he loved so much about having to live away from civilisation was that they were all back together.
Even though his sons were all grown men now, in his heart they were still his little boys and having them around reminded him that he wasn't half as lonely as he sometimes thought. The roar of Thunderbird One's engines as Scott rumbled past the balcony and the blip on the horizon that signified Virgil's constant and steady approach never failed to fill him with such a sense of pride that it threatened to consume him. In fact, there had been occasions in the past when, on seeing such sights, he hadn't been able to stop a wide, satisfied grin from forming on his lips.
However, now was most definitely not one of those times.
Not that he wasn't proud. He was. He was proud of the way each of his sons had handled this disastrous situation. Of all people, he knew how hard it was to keep your cool when someone you loved came under mortal threat. Gordon's accident, Alan at the San Miguel Bridge, Scott in the Sahara Desert and of course Virgil with the Sentinel. Yes, he knew that feeling of frustration well, trying to stay calm when it seemed like nothing was going your way.
Your whole world hanging on by a thread and there not being a damned thing you can do about it. That was a familiar feeling. However, the fear had never been as tangible as it was today. Fear in the pit of his stomach that rose in what felt like a solid lump to rest at the back of his throat. Today, if possible, was worse than ever before. Not only was Virgil's life on the line, but the tangled web they'd been embroiled in had the potential to bring International Rescue to its knees.
Hoping the old custom of soothing liquor would quell the burning apprehension inside him, Jeff found himself heading back towards his desk, a scotch in one hand and the other raised to his temples. He heaved a mournful sigh as he set the heavy, crystal glass tumbler down on top of one of the various pieces of paperwork that littered his desk. Plopping down into the chair, he allowed his head to drop into his hands and he rubbed at his tired, sore eyes. Sleep had been a commodity he hadn't been able to afford just lately. Not with the situation as it was.
As he slumped back in his seat he picked up a nearby file and idly glanced at the label on the front. The way the felt now, million dollar contract negotiations were insignificant. What he stood to lose today was drastically more precious to him and not something that money could ever replace.
His head snapped up, too quickly if the shooting pain in his neck was anything to go by. Out the corner of his eye, he was sure he saw Scott's portrait flash. His hand was already at the radio controls before he'd even realised it was his imagination playing wicked tricks on him. With a shake of the head, he let his trembling hand drop back into his lap.
He needed to get a grip.
Not something he had to remind himself of often, but today his emotions were in utter turmoil and his thoughts were tortured by a constant flow of memories. Reminders of a sturdy chestnut haired toddler who used to run with arms outstretched towards him, calling for daddy to pick him up and make him giggle. Of a gifted teenage musician and a talented artist, frowning with concentration as he worked on another masterpiece for his father's approval. Of a flourishing engineer, grinning up at his father over designs for another life saving piece of equipment, and of a compassionate young man with everything to live for.
Fiddling with the expensive cuff links of the crumpled shirt he wore, his mind drifted to his sons. Each of them were special in a different way, products of the love he had shared with Lucille and each of them fused elements of their parents' respective personalities together. He'd held them in his arms as newborn babies and felt that swell of pride that only a father can feel. That sense of awe at the tiny but perfect little bundles of life that he'd been partly responsible for making. From that moment on, he'd promised each of them two things unconditionally: to love them and to protect them.
The declarations of love, Jeff admitted, had been few and far between but in contrast, there had been constant declarations of protection. As babies, crying in his arms, he'd hushed them and rocked them until they'd fallen to sleep in the safety of his embrace. As little boys afraid of the monsters haunting their dreams, he'd hugged them close to him and assured them that they were safe, that daddy would protect them. It carried on into their teenage years too, protecting them from the arrogance and the media attention that came with the wealth that surrounded them. Even into adulthood, he'd made a solemn promise of protection. Not to his sons this time, though, but to the woman who entrusted them to his sole care on her deathbed.
His thoughts lingered on her for awhile. Hands moved to the top drawer of his desk almost of their own volition, it was a familiar ritual. Scotch in one hand, a picture of her in the other. Jeff Tracy wasn't a man prone to self pity but sometimes when he looked into the deep chocolate eyes in the photograph, he couldn't help but wonder how things might've turned out if fate hadn't dealt them that awful blow. He raised the glass to his lips and took a sip. The burn of the scotch was, as usual, a comfort to his pained thoughts.
"Oh, Luce," he sighed as he undid the top button of his shirt and brushed a finger against her face. In his mind, he could smell her musky scent and feel the softness of her skin against his. Memories of the good times they'd shared flashed through his mind: a candlelight diner, complete with soft music and red roses, a late night walk along a warm sandy beach that stretched on for miles, a bouquet of flowers offered with a loving kiss, above the newborn baby she cradled in her arms.
Memories were all he had left of Lucille now but he couldn't live with just memories of Virgil too. He'd lost his wife and he knew he couldn't live through losing a son. He'd been there once already and it was a dark place, one he had no desire to return to.
After Lucille died, he was certain that nothing could ever destroy him so completely but he was wrong. One dreaded phone call from a high ranking WASP officer and a macabre twist of fate had proved him very wrong indeed. He could say with certainty that Lucille's death had been his darkest hour but nothing prepared him for the prospect of losing a son; his world came crashing down around him and he was helpless to stop it.
Just like now.
Well, he wouldn't allow it. He couldn't allow it. Jeff Tracy was a man of action and he wasn't about to let fate deal them another fatal blow. He gulped down the scotch in one mouthful and slammed the top drawer closed, locking the picture and all the memories inside. Now wasn't the time for contemplation. He'd lost everything once before and he was damned if he was going to let it happen all over again.
The crystal tumbler slammed back on the desk with a bang and his hand moved to the radio. "Thunderbird…" he didn't get any further.
"Base from…" John's picture flickered to life. Surprised by the sudden answer, he blinked. "Wow, that was quick," he commented. "I guess it answers my next question, still no news from Scott or Penelope." He spied the empty glass on the desk and noted his father's drawn features. That was all the answer he needed.
"I was just about to call you," Jeff sat up straight in his chair. "Anything to report?" he asked, his tone sharp with military abruptness.
John had heard that tone many times over the years and didn't waste time replying, "Actually, yes," he began. "I'm not sure it's good news though. I've just picked up a radio transmission from Penelope to Parker. She said she didn't have time to explain but she needed him to bring her the truth serum they'd planned to use earlier." He frowned at his father, still uncertain what the new information meant and unwilling to voice what the logical side of his brain was suggesting.
"Truth serum?" Jeff matched his expression, his mind racing to explain Penelope's actions. "Why would they want truth serum?" he muttered.
"Well," John sighed, "I don't know. I can only think of one truth that they're trying to get to the bottom of," he glanced up at his father but kept eye contact brief, turning away before he concluded, "that's where Virgil is." By the way his father nodded a little, turning his frown into a scowl, John knew that he'd already come to the same conclusion he had. And it didn't bode well. "If they still need the serum, then…"
"Then it's not Virgil at the airport but why is his signal coming from there?" Jeff finished the sentence off with a terse tone and an angry shake of the head. "If he's not at the airport, he could be anywhere." John could almost see the cogs turning in his father's brain, weighing up the pros and cons. Indecisiveness was not a character trait for which Jeff Tracy was known. And after a few seconds, when his eyes met John's, the steely gaze was back to being alive with determination and strength. "Have you got the information I asked you about earlier? The contact details for that British Secret Service contact?"
John found himself nodding his head but bit his lips together in uncertainty, "Dad…"
"Have you got it, John?" Jeff spoke over him, his commanding tone demanding an answer.
"Yes, of course I've got it," John dropped his head so that only a mop of blond hair was visible on the screen. "It's right here, but I thought this was a last resort."
"If that signal isn't coming from Virgil, Son, then this is a last resort," Jeff's tone was resolute and firm.
"Dad, we don't know yet," John hated to question his father. He hesitated. "Even if it's not Virgil at the airport then maybe Scott and Penelope will find out where he is."
"Maybe," Jeff ran a hand over his face. "But it's been nearly two hours since the Mole surfaced. Virgil's out there somewhere and whatever the hostage takers had planned has obviously gone wrong. He's hurt, John, and we're running out of time…" he stopped himself and let out a long sigh. "We need to find him," his tone softened, "I'm sure you've been doing as much research as I have on these kinds of situations."
John nodded, but didn't mention the exact figure, the statistics didn't inspire confidence. In fact, according to the average mortality rate, Virgil would be dead already. But then again, this was hardly an average situation. If there was such a thing. "Have Tin-Tin and Brains found anything about this research place?" John asked, realising he was allowing his thoughts to take him off on a tangent that would prove insignificant anyway.
Jeff eyed the Scotch bottle tempting him from his desk but turned his attention back to John, "No, not yet but they're still looking. I don't know what's going on here, Son," he admitted, his tone morose but with an undercurrent of anger. "But it's hidden deep and it smacks of corruption, which is why I may need that information."
John looked away with a pained expression, "This could well compromise our anonymity," he found himself saying, though he was sure his father was more than aware of that. This wasn't an instinctive decision, hours of thought and deliberation had gone into it.
"I'm well aware of that," Jeff replied with a cheerless nod, "and I don't like the idea of us getting involved any more than you do. But the fact is we're already involved, John, and I won't put Virgil's life on the line to preserve relations with the British." There was a determination in his tone that John couldn't help but feel a little reassured to hear. Jeff Tracy was a man who oozed confidence even in the most dire of situations. "Besides," he added with a soft sigh, "the British owe us after that incident on the French Riviera last year. And then there was the episode with Southern; they're not in a position to deny us help."
"I hope you're right," John's eyes were drawn to the print out to his left. A quick search through last year's rescue reports and he'd soon found the file he was looking for. More than that he'd found all the information his father had requested; contact details for a source at the British Secret Service. He diverted his attention to the collection of used coffee mugs he'd acquired over the last few hours. Washing up hadn't been high on his priority list and as a result, it took several attempts to find the warmest cup. He raised it to his lips by means of distraction. It seemed he'd been functioning off nothing but coffee just lately.
"I'm right," Jeff assured him. "It's just getting a little too close for comfort, for my liking. They won't refuse us the help we need. They can't. If the media ever found out about what's been going on at that research center or what's happened in the past, there'd be a public outcry."
"Dad," John was becoming wary, worried that his father might be about to make the same mistake he had been concerned Scott would, only on a larger scale. "They'd just deny it," he shook his head, studying his father and trying to decide whether this was a serious option.
"I know, and right now we've got no proof, but once Gordon's got Cook's evidence back here then we'll have all the proof we need," Jeff replied, almost as if he were thinking aloud. John was beginning to feel alarmed and it showed, Jeff offered him a calm, reassuring smile, "This family has been torn apart once before, John. I won't let that happen again."
"Father, we don't know anything for sure, you're talking about …" John began to speak again, surprised at how cold and calculating his father's tone of voice was. He was cut off by the beeping of an incoming call to Tracy Island. Hoping it might be an update from Scott, he clamped his mouth shut and looked up.
"It's Gordon," Jeff said in a matter of fact tone. John couldn't help but deflate a little. It was past time that they had some news from the airport. "Send me through that information, John," Jeff went on, turning his attention to Gordon's portrait.
"I'll stay on the line," John replied, eyeing the file on the desk alongside him. He wanted to be entirely sure that his father wasn't being blinded by the desperation they all felt to get Virgil back. As much as he hated to think like this, there was a bigger picture here and despite the fact that every fibre of his being was ready to demand the safe return of his brother, his head was telling him that caution should be taken.
Jeff rolled his eyes at John's persistence but he had to admit he admired his astronaut son's ability to avoid the order without becoming downright insubordinate. He knew John was attempting to buy time and that he wanted to discuss the matter further, but Jeff's mind was made up, they'd waited long enough. Virgil was his son and when Jeff had said he'd do anything to protect him he meant it. Reduced to the crude fundamentals, there was only one question at the heart of the matter -- could he sacrifice the life of one of his own for the potential lives of thousands?
"Father, any news?" Gordon's words were testament to his concern for his brother.
Jeff was about to reply when something caught his eye. He turned to see Brains running into the room, carrying a small computer in one hand and waving the other around in a frenzy. His clothes were dishevelled, no doubt from the research marathon he'd found himself running, but his pale features were alight with hope as he hurried forward to Jeff's desk.
"M-M-Mr. T-Tr-Tr-Tr-Tracy!" he exclaimed, his stutter even more pronounced than usual. He screwed his nose up and raised a finger to his trademark blue glasses, levelling them out from where they sat slightly askew across his face. "I err… I think I m-m-may have s-s-something!"
XxxxX
Bright lights edged at his consciousness as his eyelids fluttered, spots of a white so bright that it sent shooting pains into his head. The darkness around him just made the lights brighter, the shadows were stifling and deep in his gut there was the sensation that the walls were moving. That they were coming in on him from all angles, like an underground passageway or a… a tunnel. Bright white lights and tunnels? Was he … dead?
Hearing returned only when he realised there was sound and a sudden memory raced through his mind, "People o-only err… 'see' such things b-b-because it's what their s-s-subconscious wants them to see. Besides, everyone who has err…'s-s-seen' has survived thus the err argument is fundamentally err f-flawed, Virgil." The memory was accompanied by an image of Brains: a bag of saline in one hand and a bunch of gauze dressings in the other, as he helped to restock Thunderbird Two's medical supplies.
So was he alive? He sure as hell didn't feel alive. In fact, he didn't feel anything except cold and sore.
The bright spots of light and the darkness suggested the possibility that his existence may be in jeopardy. The more the light increased, the more pain he felt. Can you feel pain if you're dead? He didn't want to die though, he was certain of that now. His father and brothers would be devastated at the thought, and he detested the idea of never seeing them again with equal vigour.
"You'll make it, Virgil, I know you will," Scott's voice this time and an inspiring sensation that he spoke the truth, that he was nearly there now. Wherever there was. He could do it, if Scott said he could then he could, such was his faith in his older brother.
The warmth was drawing him back though, slowly at first but then with more certainty. The bright lights receded and darkness came up to claim him before reality, or any real conscious thought, had edged itself in. It had been so close that it was almost tangible, but then it disappeared as quickly as it had emerged, leaving only confusion, disorientation and a question mark over his sanity.
It seemed the choice was no longer his to make.
XxxxX
"So, what you're telling me Brains is that these criminals are being tracked?" Jeff Tracy's deep frown was enough to put anyone on edge, but his powerful voice boomed out as if to remind everyone that he was not at all happy with the current situation.
"Y-y-yes Mr. T-Tracy, I believe s-so," Brains stuttered back. He turned back to the laptop he'd placed on the table and positioned it so as Gordon, John and Jeff could all see. "The err…c-criminals are being tr-tracked by a system s-si-similar to the old err H..Home Detention C-C-Curfew scheme or err… 't-t-tagging' as it u-used to be called."
Alan materialised at Gordon's shoulder, wondering what the fuss was about and as was usual for him, his gaze immediately fell to Tin-Tin. It was customary for the assistant engineer to look away or flutter her eyelashes in a coy manoeuvre to avoid his flirtatious smirk. Today though, there was no flirtatious smirk and instead there was an anxious frown, which Tin-Tin returned without hesitation or any effort to avoid.
"It s-seems that the err… people b-behind all th-this are k-keeping tr-track of their ex- err… ex-experiments," attention soon turned back to Brains as he continued. "Now, if we err… l-l-look at the err… m-map here," he pointed to the screen of the tiny computer, "we can err…s-see that the err….ab-abscondees a-are in the Ferryhill area."
"Then why the hell aren't the government doing something about it!" Jeff Tracy erupted in a loud, angry tone, his fists clenched in aggravation. He caught Brains wince out the corner of his eye and tried to curve his frustration. "Aren't they worried that there are three dangerous criminals gallivanting round the country?"
"Y-y-yes M-M-Mr. T-T-Tracy," Brains became more nervous by the second at Jeff's obvious anger and it didn't help his stutter. Deep down he knew the anger was at the situation and not him but it still made him nervous about what he was going to tell them. "I know what they err… they're doing to err… contain the err… situation, see h-here," he pointed to the two flashing dots again, "this i-is where the a-abscondees are…"
"Why only two, Brains?" Alan frowned, interrupting the scientist's explanation and attempting to ignore his father's frustration fuelled outburst. "There were three escapees."
"Well, it err… s-seems that one of the err… devices has either malfunctioned or it's err been eradicated, possibly in the err c-crash," Brains reported. "However," he added quickly, "I err h-have another err th-theory. These d-devices seem to work on a-a s-similar principle to err…the err ETD's we all c-carry. The on-only one major s-significant difference," he paused to look up at the anxious faces to find himself the centre of attention as everyone hung on his every word, "is our err E-ETD's e-emit a err…m-much more p-powerful signal."
"So," John's brow knitted at the new information and he glanced at his father. "If one of our Edible Transmitting Devices was activated from the same person that had one of these devices already, our ETD would override the pre-planted device because it's the stronger signal, right, Brains?" Brains nodded in answer to John's question and the astronaut continued, "So if the signal coming from the airport isn't from Virgil, then that would also explain where the third criminal is and why Scott and Penelope would need the truth serum."
"C-Correct," Brains nodded for a second time. "Or it c-could be that the err… s-signal has err been el-eliminated. These d-devices are in-inserted under the err sk-skin. They're designed to re-release a chemical into the err bloodstream by err… remote access. The ch-chemical released isn't all that err d-d-different from the hydrogenised Xipherous Magnedrate that err we err… u-use ourselves. It has the…err s-same qualities and err from what I can err m-make out, the s-same antidote. But, if a p-person d-d-dies while err…u-using one of the devices, the err…the s-s-signal will stop. The i-idea was that once a p-person was err d-dead, they were no longer d-dangerous."
"And therefore a wasted frequency," John turned his nose up in disgust at the attitude but the logic rang true.
"Nice," Gordon commented with sarcasm. "But there could still be awkward questions asked once they were found, perhaps even more so if they were dead."
"I think the err k-kinds of people that are d-dealing with this aren't the k-kind to w-worry about err… a-awkward q-question, Gordon." Brains paused and shook his head slightly from side to side. "These p-p-people have the authority to m-make awkward q-questions g-go away, if you know wh-what I'm saying."
Brains opened his mouth to go on but Jeff held his hand up. "Okay, so it might not be Virgil at the airport. How accurate is this information?" he frowned.
"Well, Virgil could still be at the airport," John theorised. "He's just not carrying a signal."
"If that were true, John, there'd be no need for truth serum," Jeff replied. "How do you know all this, Brains?" he turned his attention back to the young engineer but the deep frown remained.
Brains looked to each of the faces round the room in turn, his cheeks reddened further as he took each one of the faces that looked at him so expectantly. "I erm…. I can assure you, Mr. T-Tracy, the information is err a-accurate," he hoped that it would be enough to satisfy Jeff Tracy's curiosity but one look at the man who he had come to think of as a friend told him that he would need to explain further. "I err…" Brains paused and ran a hand over his hair in a nervous gesture. "It was err…"
"What is it Brains?" Jeff's tone was stern and demanding of an answer.
"I accidentally err…a-accessed the i-i-information when I was err….t-trying to locate the err…correct body of the S-S-Secret Service who w-would be r-responsible for this err f-facility."
There were a few moments of silence before Alan realised that a diversion was called for. "You hacked into MI 5's computer system?" he asked in semi-feigned disbelief. "Brains!" he exclaimed, letting out a laugh of admiration, "you dog!" He only succeeded in drawing attention to himself with his exaggerated reaction and alerted his father's suspicions immediately.
"It err…wasn't h-hacking, A-Alan," Brains stuttered glancing from Jeff to the others, nervous of how the Tracy patriarch would respond and whether he was believing what he was being told. "It was an err… a-accident."
"Sure it was, Brains," Gordon noticed their father's reaction and forced a grin, "so what else did you find out?" he asked, hoping to move the conversation on and distract their father from realising the truth.
Brains looked once more to Jeff Tracy for an indication of how this revelation was being received. Jeff's hand remained on his chin and he was mesmerised, not only by the engineer's findings but the way his sons were acting. However they came by it, this was still information that they needed to know so, with a raised eyebrow, he encouraged Brains to carry on. The engineer had a feeling that the lack of response was more from shock than anything else. Nevertheless, he continued.
"Well, I err o-only had a err thirty s-second window b-before I w-would have been d-discovered but we…" he stopped, realised what he'd said and glanced at Tin-Tin, "err… I," he covered quickly, "downloaded all the …in-information I err c-could." He gestured to the small computer, "It's … a-all on here. Everything I could f-find about the facility in the err….t-time I had."
Both John and Gordon opened their mouths to respond but weren't fast enough to get a word in before their father spoke. "Brains," Jeff began, still recovering from the shock. "I don't know what to say. I don't condone this behavior, what you did was very dangerous. Supposing you could have somehow been tracked, what would have happened then?"
"Oh, but Mr. Tracy!" Tin-Tin stepped forward, her eyes wide at Jeff's tone of voice, "we had no choice! They… Brains was very careful not to be traced. We couldn't just sit back and do nothing. Virgil is our friend too," she cooed. "And the information we found is extremely valuable."
Alan winced at the uncovered use of the plural again and glanced at his father. As Alan had predicted, Jeff was looking between the feed from Thunderbird Two and the scientific duo in front of him with a sudden expression of comprehension. The look that reminded Alan that his father could sniff out the truth from several miles away.
"I understand that, Tin-Tin, of course I do," Jeff sighed, looking at the young woman with a calculating frown. "And I'm not saying that…." He hesitated, unsure whether to use the plural and confirm he knew the truth or keep up this charade, "… he did the wrong thing. I'm saying that I wish you'd discussed it with me first. Hacking into databases and sneaking around doesn't sit well with me, I'll admit that, but I'll stop at nothing to get my son back. Whoever's in charge of this place clearly isn't prepared to play by the rules, otherwise he or she would have told us the truth in the first place, and I'm more than prepared to employ a little deception of our own."
A sigh of relief was breathed by all.
"But," Jeff went on, putting everyone on tenterhooks once more, "as the head of this organization, I should have been kept informed." He turned his attention back to Brains and the laptop, raising an eyebrow and allowing a smirk to surface. This was what he'd been waiting for: a breakthrough. Time for some action. "Now, Brains, what else have you discovered?" he asked.
"Well, err… there are files here d-d-detailing the facility a-and it's f-funding. I err…a-also picked up on a err…r-r-r-radio transmission," Brains met Jeff's gaze, uncertainty contained in his eyes. "I t-th-think you'd all b-b-better hear i-i-it."
He nodded to Tin-Tin as she adjusted the laptop and it began to emit the sound of radio static. After a short while, the static stopped. Three beeps preceded an incoming call and a voice sounded through the airwaves. It had been synthesised and carried no semblance of origin, sex or emotion. Automatic in it's monotonous sounds and it's harsh, unfeeling qualities: "Mike India Romeo HQ calling Agent Four-Four Foxtrot Lima, are you receiving? This is Mike India Romeo HQ…"
XxxxX
Scott, meanwhile, was finding it increasingly difficult to keep a lid on his temper.
The man in front of him had inflicted the beating that Scott had listened to across the airwaves and was responsible for sliding a scalpel across his brother's throat, coming dangerously close to ending Virgil's life right there and then. He was also a third of the reason as to why they were in this mess in the first place and had yet to show anything that resembled consideration, compassion or remorse. Could Scott really be blamed for feeling such fierce hatred towards him after all that? His conscience was telling him that International Rescue was a peaceful, lifesaving organisation and that the information he wanted could be extracted with more humane methods but his heart was telling him he was more than justified in letting his fists do the talking. Every time he closed his eyes or allowed his mind to wander, the image of Virgil in his kidnappers' clutches came to mind and Scott was reassured in an instant that his heart had the right idea.
"Come on then," Jake taunted from his position between Scott and the wall. "What are you waiting for?"
Scott's grip around the convict's shirt tightened before he let him go with a rough push. Biting his lips together in an effort to curve his desire for retribution, Scott's nostrils flared and he forced his white knuckled fists to his side. "Where is he?" he demanded.
"Oh, come on!" Jake let out a patronising laugh and shook his head, disappointed. "You can do better than that! You're International Rescue!"
Scott didn't trust himself to reply and instead, his eyes danced with menace as he just stared at Jake. The angry tension in the air was heavy and the silence only added to it. Scott's determination not to allow Jake the satisfaction of seeing how riled he felt was only just succeeding in stopping him from lashing out. And it was a good job because if Scott allowed himself just one punch, he doubted he'd be able to stop.
Jake's laugh became hollow and condescending, "You think the silent treatment's going to scare me?"
Scott's jaw hardened and he ground his teeth together, trying to remain in control. He began to consider if John had been right in thinking he couldn't handle his anger but at the time, he'd been blinded by a desperate need to get to Virgil. Only Virgil wasn't here.
"Y'know, your mate Virgil had a nasty habit of going quiet on me too," Jake changed tack. His tone was still demeaning and though Scott realised he was goading him and that he shouldn't bite, resisting his taunts was another matter. "He learnt the hard way not to ignore me. I'm not going to have to teach you the same lesson, am I?"
"I'd like to see you try," Scott growled out.
"Oh…" Jake smiled, clearly enjoying the chance to taunt Scott and took steps towards the door. "You are still in there then. I was beginning to think I'd offended you…"
Scott foiled Jake's attempt to get closer to the door and moved to stand in his path. To anyone else, Scott's six foot muscular frame would be enough to make them think twice, but Jake had other ideas. He stopped in his tracks but made no effort to back off. Instead, he crossed his arms and allowed his grin to widen, not at all intimidated.
"Offended me?" Scott's height advantage meant he was sneering down on the crook. Two could play this game of nonchalance. "Why would you think that?"
Jake frowned and looked at Scott with a bemused expression. He was clearly surprised by Scott's repartee. "Oh, I don't know," he held his arms out and shrugged his shoulders. Turning his back on Scott, he took two or three steps away from the door and then spun round, pivoting on his feet and making a run for it.
It happened fast but thankfully Scott Tracy was the epitome of quick-thinking and intercepted Jake long before he reached the door. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me what I want to know," he took a step forward, forcing Jake to back away. "No more games," Scott menaced. "Where is he?"
Jake took a few moments to weigh up his options, glancing around the room and looking Scott up and down. After a few minutes of contemplation, he looked at Scott and answered. "I told you," he shrugged. "I don't know who you're talking about."
"I think you do," Scott took another step forward. His patience had been stretched to the limit and his clenched fists were shaking by his side.
"Yeah, well, you're wrong," Jake seemed unruffled but there was a flicker of fear in his eyes as he watched Scott step closer. Scott's six foot frame was tense and Parker's thick wool coat bulging round his arms and across his chest just made him look even bigger.
"Am I?" Scott growled, "Then explain to me why Virgil's emergency signal is coming from you."
"Emergency signal?" Jake floundered, putting the pieces of the puzzle together and realising that was how International Rescue had found him. He tried to think of how Virgil had managed it and then he remembered; the strawberry flavoured sweet. He laughed to himself and allowed his head to drop as he shook it from side to side. If he hadn't been so cruel as to deny Virgil that wish, he wouldn't be faced with this problem.
"Something funny?" Scott took another step forward and Jake tried to take another step back but found himself against the wall.
"Yeah," he nodded, "he begged me for that toffee, it was his dying wish. Ironic, huh?"
Scott took in a deep, steadying breath and then blew it out slowly again. Trying to ignore what Jake was inferring, he took the final step towards the criminal, closing the gap between them. "So, you remember him now do you?" eyes alight with fury Scott was shaking with the effort it was taking to control the ire inside him. "Finally, we're making progress."
"Virgil?" Jake tried to ignore Scott's angry tone and the way the International Rescue operative was pinning him against the wall, invading his personal space. Despite his casual manner to the contrary, it was making him feel uncomfortable. "Let me think," Jake would have raised a hand to stroke his chin but Scott's presence so close to him impeded the movement. "Oh yeah, I remember him. How could I forget? Defiant little fellow, wasn't he?" Jake didn't wait for an answer. "It's always so much more entertaining when they put up a fight, much more rewarding."
"Tell me what you've done with him," Scott demanded. Leaning forward he placed a hand against the wall, either side of Jake's shoulders, it wasn't until his palms connected with the cool of the tiles that he realised how hot and sweaty he was. His burly chest heaved with the effort it was taking to contain his burning anger.
"What I've done with him?" Jake mocked, his grin widened as he guffawed. "Enough," he whispered, leaning forward so as his mouth was alongside Scott's ear. "He had this defiant attitude on the outside but inside, he was just a big baby. It didn't take me as long as I thought to break him, he was easy."
Scott let out a growl of pure anger as he took a hold of Jake's shirt pulling him forward and then forcing him against the wall again, "Tell me where he is!" he bellowed. Scott's breathing was quick and deep, he realised that if he didn't get an answer soon then he'd erupt, losing control of his rage.
The shout vibrated off the tiled walls and the porcelain but Jake seemed unconcerned and leant forward as far as he could. "We had a great time! He was so much fun! Begged me to stop even as I was dragging the blade across his skin," Jake was fearless of Scott's intimidation tactics, his tone remained bold and provocative as he continued to taunt. "It's amazing how much damage such a small blade can do. Man, did he bleed!" he crowed. "There was so much blood," Jake's expression falsified a frown, "I don't think I've ever seen that much blood." His cool, calculating gaze rose to meet eyes that struggled to contain the fury burning behind them. "It was fun while it lasted but what can I say, all good things must come to an end, right?"
"Tell me where he is!" Scott's voice was low and he spoke slowly, his tone laced with a menace he didn't realise he possessed. He was tired of playing this game. It didn't seem like he was getting anywhere and Jake was just succeeding in winding him up further. His anger was at an all time high and he knew inside that it was time to walk away before he did something he'd regret. The muscles in his neck were so tight that pain was shooting down his shoulders and his knuckles were white with the grip he held on Jake's shirt.
"I'm a perfectionist you know, I like to know I've done a good job," Jake let out a hollow laugh and looked Scott up and down before staring him in the eye with detached amusement. "I listened to him for a while. Ironic really, the rescuer begging for help in a big puddle of his own blood."
Scott began to shake his head in anger, "You're sick…"
"He was crying," Jake spoke over him, his grin wide and his eyes sparkling with amusement as he lapped up how his words were affecting Scott. "Crying like the pathetic little man he really was."
Scott's fury erupted and he let go of his grip on Jake's shirt, pulling one hand back and allowing the burning anger pumping through his veins to form a fist so hard it could have penetrated stone. His knuckles were white and his arms bulged so much with engorged strength that Parker's coat threatened to tear. "Virgil's ten times the man you could ever be!" he snarled.
Composure was always something that the Tracy family valued. They were all equally as bad when it came to swallowing their pride to apologise for something or to ask for help. In a family full of men, self respect and honour were high up on the list of virtues and though sometimes they could be failings, Jeff Tracy had always believed that self control and discipline were fundamental in the definition of any good man.
The insult to his brother's dignity was the last straw, and Scott launched himself at Jake again. With a guttural cry that made the criminal jump, Scott threw himself at his brother's attacker, a fist poised.
"Stop that at once!"
Scott halted at the sound of the voice, fist stopped in mid-air only inches from its target. He breathed heavily and stared down at Jake, waiting for him to open the eyes he'd clamped shut in anticipation. When Jake finally popped an eye open, his attention was diverted to the white knuckle that was clenched inches in front of his nose. As he focused on Scott's face he smiled, "Saved by the bell," he teased.
The red mist in Scott's eyes intensified and his nostrils flared in time with his breathing, like a bull moments before it's about to charge. He was about to retort when Penelope spoke again.
"I think that's quite enough for now," she remarked, her timing as impeccable as always. Scott could hear her heels on the floor as she walked towards them and wondered how long she'd been there. He hadn't heard her come in and was thankful that it was her and not a member of the public. He glanced at her quickly, just long enough to recognise what she was carrying in her hands.
"You have no idea how lucky you are," Scott heaved with a sinister grin of his own as Penelope neared. In one swift movement, he pushed Jake's head back against the wall and twisted it to one side slightly, exposing his neck. Trapped between Scott's hold and the hard wall, Jake could only struggle and attempt to break free but it was futile. "Now!" Scott instructed as he turned to Penelope.
Penelope held a hand up, the needle high in the air, "My dear boy," she said to Jake, "the less you struggle the less this will hurt." It didn't lessen Jake's resistance and so she stepped forward. "Very well, have it your way," she muttered with a soft shake of the head as she pushed the needle against Jake's skin. Within seconds, she'd emptied the clear liquid into him. "Done," she stood back with a satisfactory grin.
Scott released Jake and took a step back, watching as the hardened criminal slipped to the floor, grasping his neck. "What… What have you done to me?" Jake asked. There was a panic in his eyes that Scott couldn't help but revel in. Disturbing as that was for the eldest of the Tracy son, he was determined that he wouldn't allow compassion to win out for the man who had tormented his brother so cruelly.
"Enough," Scott growled out.
"In approximately…" Penelope paused to consult her diamond studded watch, "…four seconds, the chemical composite I've just injected into your system will begin to affect your brain's ability to function." As Jake's eyes widened in horror, Scott suppressed a smirk and forced his expression to remain solemn. He had to focus; this wasn't about retribution, it was about finding Virgil. Retribution came later. On the floor in front of them, Jake began to panic and pant for breath, clutching his neck in sheer terror as if he could somehow remove the clear liquid now cursing through his system.
"Do not panic," Lady Penelope continued, her tone calm and if anything a little unfeeling. Scott knew she'd always had a soft spot for Virgil and presumed she would be finding this almost as hard as he was. "The chemical reaction taking place in your brain will prevent you from consciously lying." Penelope went on, "Irrespective of how much you desire, or even try to lie, your brain will only be able to formulate true answers. Don't worry, the effects are only short term, but there is plenty more where that came from and we won't hesitate to use it until we've received the answers we want." She paused to glance at her watch again, "Now, let's have a little trial run shall we?"
Jake's wide eyes looked up at her. It was already obvious that the drug was having an effect. His pupils were large as if he was intoxicated and the arm he had clasped to his neck had long since flopped down to his chest. Instead of the come-back that Scott had anticipated, Jake remained mute, further evidence of the drugs power.
"Now, repeat after me 'The sky is pink'," Penelope commanded as she knelt down in front of Jake. Scott followed suit.
Jake shook his head, clenching his jaw closed. Scott went to move forward and encourage some kind of response but Penelope placed a hand on his arm and stopped him. "There'll be no need for that. We are all civilised people and I'm sure Mr Field isn't foolish enough to test my patience."
Still wide eyed, Jake pursed his lips as if he were attempting to speak but it was obvious he was having some difficulty in vocalising what he wanted to say. "P…P…Pi… the…s…sky….i…is b…b..blue," he stuttered out. His pupils dilated further than Scott thought possible as Jake clapped a hand over his mouth in a mix of surprise and disgust. "I didn't want to say that," he breathed. The shock in his eyes was self evident. The serum's effects were successful.
"Excellent!" Penelope enthused, "Now we understand each other."
"Tell us where Virgil is," Scott instructed, moving closer.
Jake shook his head from side to side in an aggressive manner, clamping his jaw closed. His whimpered as he tried to keep himself from divulging the facts and again, clapped both hands over his mouth to prevent any sound from escaping. Scott was quick to step forward and forcefully remove his hands, taking a firm hold of his wrists and holding them out in front of him.
"It's no use exerting yourself in an attempt to lie, the truth will always out. So, come along, where is he?" Penelope was becoming as impatient as Scott.
"J… Jet," Jake groaned as he said the word as if the pain of not being able to taunt the International Rescue operatives was a physical one.
"Jet?" Scott questioned, leaning closer still so as he could hear all of Jake's mumbling. "The jet? He's at the jet?"
"Jet e…e…ex….exploded," Jake gasped out. "Virgil," he wheezed for breath against the effort he was wasting trying to prevent the words from materialising, "t…t…trapped in…in….ins…inside."
Scott's expression darkened further at what Jake was saying, his face like thunder. "What are you saying?" he demanded, his voice rising in volume. His heart began to thud against his chest and his body trembled as his brain made the connection. He denied it, not wanting to recognise the truth. It couldn't be.
"V…Virgil's d…d…dead," Jake panted the words out between haggard breaths and as his eyes met Scott's they were still wide but this time with fear, probably at the lack of control he was exerting over his own body.
Jake's deep breathing was the only thing that broke the eerie silence that followed as Scott and Penelope tried to comprehend what he'd just said.
Penelope was aghast and turned to Scott, concerned how he would react.
Scott began to shake his head from side to side but his eyes didn't leave Jake's. "No," he muttered in disbelief, tension evident in his stance as he released Jake's wrists and pushed himself to his feet. He turned his back on them as the heat built behind his eyes and ran a hand over his face as he took a few steps away. "No," he whispered again but Jake couldn't be lying, they'd given him the truth serum.
Shrugging off Penelope's comforting hand on his shoulder, Scott turned back to Jake and advanced on him with purposeful strides. With a lunge forward, he grasped Jake's lapels, pulling him clean off the floor and forcing him against the wall so hard that his head thudded on the hard tiles for a second time.
"You're lying!" Scott shouted, pushing his face so uncomfortably close to Jake's that the pinned convict tried to turn away. It was futile as Scott took a hold of his chin and forced Jake to face him. "The serum's wearing off, give him more!" he ordered Penelope.
"No!" Jake began to struggle against Scott's hold, desperate to avoid another dose.
"It's highly unlikely that the serum would have worn off after such a short period of time," Penelope said in a soft, almost apologetic tone. In her heart of hearts, she wished she could tell Scott that there was a likelihood Jake could be lying but there was no such possibility.
"Let go of me," Jake squirmed. "Please, you're hurting me!" The comment came in a small, pleading tone that the real Jake would never dream of using, as if to prove Penelope's words.
"Hurting you?" Scott thundered, shaking Jake by the lapels and allowing his anger to surface. "You're damned right I'm hurting you! Now tell me where he is!"
Penelope went to lay a hand on Scott's shoulder, professionalism stopped the tears forming in her eyes but Scott's denial was almost too much for her to bear. She hesitated, not sure what kind of reaction she would get from the irate pilot.
"I t…told you a…al…already," Jake responded, stuttering now as much from fear of what Scott was going to do as the serum. "He's dead."
"Say it again!" Scott demanded with another rough shake. His knuckles were white again, contrasting the red anger in his face. His brow furrowed into a deep scowl and his whole body was shaking as he struggled to keep the strength in his tone.
"H…H….He's dead," Jake repeated again, bracing himself for another shake and to be shoved back against the tiled wall again. To Jake's surprise, Scott pushed him out of the way and threw him to the ground. For a few seconds Jake sat there, taking in the silence and tense sadness that hung in the air. Using the wall to steady him, he managed to pull himself to his feet. He watched Scott with caution as the pilot began to pace the floor, shaking his head in defiance.
Remembering everything that had gone before that moment, how Jake had talked about his brother's ordeal in such crude tones and how he'd constantly referred to Virgil in the past tense. Scott was forced to accept the improbability that Jake was lying. It was simply impossible for him to be dishonest.
Virgil was dead. Gone. More than that, Scott was standing face to face with his brother's murderer.
The anger couldn't be contained.
In Scott's mind, he saw the hero who worked tirelessly alongside him, rescue after rescue. The lifelong companion who was there for him, even at the darkest of times, and the brother who had been his best friend for as long as he'd known. Flashes of older memories raced through his mind, the chestnut haired toddler who used to curl up alongside him once their mother and father had put them both to bed. Of the distraught little boy whose tiny hand had slipped into Scott's as their mother had been lowered into the ground. And who, from that day onwards, Scott had promised to protect.
In a blur of anger, self loathing and sheer devastation, he advanced on Jake with a rock-hard fist. Trembling with hatred, he threw himself at his brother's captor.
This time, not even Penelope's shouts could stop him.