Virgil headed for the elevator that would take him to the hangars where we kept our planes. Alan and I hurried to catch up. To my surprise, Virgil bypassed the elevator, heading deeper into the house. Alan and I exchanged a look before following. It only took a few steps to realize my brother's destination was the armory.

Alan realized that about the same time as I did, and he suddenly slowed. "Hey, I thought Brains said no tranquilizers."

Virgil tapped in a code on the door, then pressed his hand on the scan pad. The door opened, and he walked in, saying, "He said we can't use them on Scott or John. Everyone else there is fair game."

Whoa. My brother was very scary when he wanted to be, and the coldness in his voice, and the dead fish eyes were enough to make me swallow. He handed Alan and I trank guns, but took a semi-automatic pistol for himself. Neither Al nor I made any comment.

Virgil headed out the door, and Alan looked at me, and grabbed a 9mm, and tossed me one, too. We caught up with big brother just as the elevator door opened. We were all quiet on the ride down, but when the door opened onto the hangar, and Virgil turned left instead of right, I had to speak up. "Virg, we should take the sport jet."

"No." Virgil just kept on walking.

I didn't know what he was thinking, but I was pretty sure it wasn't straight. "Virgil, the sport jet will have us there in less than two hours."

"The nearest place to land a jet is two hours away. I know what I'm doing, now come on."

Oh. He could have said so. Alan and I dutifully followed our brother into the big helijet that we used to haul freight from the mainland. I shouldn't have been surprised. The helijet is to the sport jet what Thunderbird Two is to Thunderbird One. No wonder Virgil would prefer it. When we reached the cockpit, Alan and I almost collided, heading for the co-pilot seat.

"Step aside."

"I'm Virgil's co-pilot, Alan. I'm always Virgil's co-pilot."

"This isn't Thunderbird Two. Go sit in the back."

"I'm Virgil's co-pilot. You go sit in the back."

"You don't even like flying."

"That has nothing to do with it."

"Oh, for God's sake. Alan, you take second seat. Gordon, you take navigation."

Virgil's bark didn't really leave room for discussion, so we both did as he told us. I have to admit, it stung. Yeah, I wasn't the big air jock that Alan was, but that didn't mean I couldn't do the job. I parked my butt at the engineer's position, and went through the checklist.

When Virgil called through the headset, I let him know that we were green for flight. "Get me a straight shot to West Wyalong, Gordon."

Well, duh. "Yes sir." It came out sullen, but I didn't particularly care. With the helijet's computer, navigation was just a matter of plugging in the destination. A damned trained monkey could do it. Neither Virgil nor Alan commented on my tone of voice, both being busy getting the big heavy aircraft into the air.

Once we were airborne, Virgil's voice floated again over the headset. "Gordy, get back in the bay, I need you to prep some stuff for me. The big crate."

He had that tone in his voice that made me frown. The one that said I was going to be apologizing for being an idiot soon. My first instinct was to say something rude, but I bit that back and settled for "FAB."

I unbuckled my safety harness and climbed through the hatch into the cargo bay. The crate was hard to miss. It was in the middle of the bay, tied down with typical Virgil efficiency, in front of a big SUV. Okay, I admit it. I was curious. I went over and unsealed the crate, and opened it up.

It proved to have distance viewing gear and distortion camo. Oh. When I was with W.A.S.P. I had trained for a short time as a sniper. I was a very good shot, and if I'd had any real inclination for it, I could have probably gone far. As it was, I was booted over to the high-speed surface craft corps, where I really found a home. Too bad it didn't last.

Anyway, I was the family expert in all the gear in this crate. Which, of course, explained why Alan was co-pilot, not me. Damn it, I hate eating crow. But then, when I thought about it, I hadn't actually said anything. In fact, I'd obeyed every order I'd been given. As I went through checking the equipment, I decided that I didn't have anything to apologize for.

It didn't take me anywhere near the nearly four hours it would take to get to our goal to get the gear checked out. As soon as I had it all set, I headed up ship. My brothers were in their seats, quietly going about their business, but I could tell from the pink shade at the back of Alan's stiff neck that they weren't thrilled with each other. No surprise there. Alan never took to second seat well.

With a sigh, I sat down and buckled up. As soon as I plugged in the headset, Virgil was in my ear. "Gordon, I need you to uplink to Thunderbird Five's computers. I want an exact position on Scott and John's communicators."

"You got it." It took me a couple of minutes, but we were nowhere near our goal, so I had the time. Once I had them located, I patched in satellite imaging, to get an idea of what we were facing. I grunted when I realized that our goal was a farm some 20 miles outside of town.

I guess I was louder than I thought. Either that, or the silence was bugging Alan. Anyway, he jumped on my grunt, asking, "What? What have you got?"

"Virg, we're going to need to adjust our course. Their comms are about 21.2 miles to the west of town off of the uh, Mid Western Highway. Looks like farm country."

"No. We'll land at the airport and drive out."

"That's going to add more time. Why don't we just fly straight in? Get it over with?" Alan's impatience was the only outward sign of his anxiety. His hands on the controls were calm and sure. But both Virgil and I knew he was upset.

Not that we weren't. I mean, how could we not be. Who knew what was happening at that farm? I know the first image I got was of John being fanned by naked women, and fed peeled grapes. But the moment Brains had used the word compromised, that vision popped, and now all I could see was my brothers trapped in some kind of, I dunno, some kind of cage waiting to be fed to the wood chipper. I sighed. I had to knock off those late night horror movie marathons.

I think my biggest fear here was that the woman somehow knew all about us. All about International Rescue. We'd all worked so hard to keep a veil of secrecy over our operations, that paranoia about discovery was something we had to actively fight. But what if she knew? What if she targeted Johnny specifically? What if she was using this drug, whatever it was, to get John or Scott to spill our secrets?

Even if we got them back, and cured, how much damage would the woman do? And God, is she got anything out of Scott, I swear, it'd kill him. I think that that was what was making Virgil so hard right now. He was probably thinking that even if we got our brothers back, it would never be the same again.

Actually, the more I thought about it, the more worried I got. Virgil had his own worries. His voice was husky and tight as he replied to Alan. "We can't get anywhere near that farm, Alan. You heard Brains. They've been compromised. Scott knows this helijet's sound signature. He knows what all of our aircraft sound like. We can't risk him telling that bitch we're on our way."

"Well, how are we going to get from the airport to that farm? Walk?"

I had the answer to that. "We're packing wheels, Al. The Rigor's in back."

Alan froze for a moment, then turned to Virgil. "How long were you planning this? You loaded a four wheel drive, and hunting gear?"

Virgil just shook his head. "I just… I…"

I understood, so I was quick to let him off the hook. "Yeah, I know. I knew there was something wrong too. At least you were smart enough to prepare for it."

Alan glanced back at me, then at Virgil. "Hey, come on, guys. We're going to fix this. There's no way either of you could have known it wasn't just some flu bug. I mean, deathray looks aside, they were both acting normal enough to fool Dad and Grandma."

You know, it wasn't until Al tried to make me feel better that I even realized just how guilty I was feeling. When I looked at it head on, I understood that I'd been thinking that I should have seen what was going on with John, and not let Scott go out there. Yeah, like I could have stopped him.

Al was right, and I found myself nodding my head. It was good to release that guilt. I hoped Virgil could release his guilt too. It could get in the way.

Of course, asking Virgil not to feel guilty was like asking Scott to give up flying. He sat at the controls, his hands practically shaking from the tight grip on the stick and throttle.

He never made a sound, and Alan and I traded glances. With a slight nod, I started. "Of course, it's not all that hard to fool Dad. Remember the time Scott came home drunk from the school play, and we got him into bed, and Virg told Dad that he was just having girl problems? Poor Scott, didn't have a clue what Dad was talking about at breakfast the next day."

"Oh, God, that was so funny! Dad didn't have a clue either. I practically hurt myself trying not to laugh. What I liked best was when they were talking about two entirely different things, but neither of them realized it."

"Yeah, they just kept right on talking. I think they both thought it was one of the best conversations they ever had."

I looked at Virgil's back. His grip had loosened a bit. Alan looked as if he'd continue in that vein, but I caught his eye and gave a little shake of my head. We had to be ready, and there was a time and place for cracking wise.

We'd crossed the coastline some time earlier, and suddenly, both my brothers were attentive to the air controller's sudden voice on our headsets. I listened in as Virgil gave flight information and got clearance.

We flew on, the sun getting lower in the sky. Man, when you're used to a Thunderbird, a helijet is about as fast as a flying pig. An overweight flying pig. I was beginning to wish we'd packed some sandwiches or something.

Finally the town of West Wyalong was under our wings. I frowned, it was a lot smaller than I expected. One main street, surrounded by a few residential blocks. Alan sniffed as he looked out the window. "Swell. The Australian version of Kalvesta."

I shifted in my seat. My brothers were always disparaging our hometown of Kalvesta, Kansas, calling it the back elbow of nowhere. I joked along with them, but you know, I really didn't share that opinion. Sure, I'd left as soon as I turned 18, but that was because I just had such an affinity for the ocean. If it hadn't been for that, and my desire to serve in the Navy, I think I could have been very happy to grow old and die on our old wheat farm. I don't know, maybe we all felt that way deep down. Someday we'd have to have that conversation.

"Coming up on the airport." Alan's remark brought me back to the job at hand. The airport was barely worth the name. Just a few corrugated hangars and a single runway. Of course, with a pilot like Virgil, the size or condition of the runway didn't matter. He touched down with barely a bump, and taxied over the cracked tarmac to the grassy verge. There hadn't been anyone to guide us in, but as soon as we started to shut down, an old guy came limping out of a shack at one side of the runway. It was apparently what passed for a control tower.

Virgil saw the man coming, and said over his shoulder, "Gordon, go take care of him while Alan and I shut down."

I got down to the ground just as the geezer came up. His eyes were all for the helijet. "That a TE300?"

I smiled. "Yeah. You've got a good eye."

He looked at me like he thought I was dissing him. I wasn't. Tracy Enterprises helijets were all pretty much cookie cutter design. Don't get me wrong, it was a good design, but it took an experienced eye to spot the difference between a 300 and say, a 360X. He shot me a look, and said a bit coldly, "What do you need? Service? Petrol?"

"Uh, no, sir. We're here on a day visit. We just need parking space."

He glanced at where Virgil had parked her, and nodded. "You can leave her there. Day rates are five hundred for half day, eight hundred if you leave after dark."

It was highway robbery, but I wasn't in a mood to argue. I pulled out my wallet. "Can you handle WorEx? And customs?"

As he saw the teal credit card, his eyes widened, and his attitude disappeared. "No worries. Follow me, please."

I walked with him back to his shed. He ushered me in, turning on the lights as we went. I was a bit surprised. Despite its small size, the office was neat and tidy. We walked over to the counter, where he took my card, and the three passports, and pulled out a reader. He glanced up at me. "You'll be leaving before dark?"

I shrugged. "Actually, I'm not sure. You'd better make it for the eight hundred."

The old codger reached under the counter for the passport wand, which he waved over each of the three passports. "Where you heading off to? Not many people living in these parts these days."

"Uh, a farm about twenty miles west of here."

The old guy stiffened, and grew pale. I licked my suddenly dry lips. "You know the place I'm talking about?"

He started to shake his head, but then looked up at me, frowning. "You don't want to go there."

"What do you mean?"

"That's the witch out there. You don't want to go anywhere near her."

"Listen, I don't have a choice. My brothers are out there. I've got to get them out of there."

"Mister, if your brothers are out there, they're as good as dead, and you'll be dead too if you don't stay away."

My stomach was tightening into a tiny little cramped ball. "Tell me what you know."

The man's jaw worked, but finally he shook his head. "I've told you all you need to know. You go out there, you won't be coming back. Now get on your way, I've got work to do."

I stood staring at the guy, but he resolutely turned his back and stomped over to a desk and sat down. I wanted to push, but I could see he was scared out of his mind. I shook my head, and left the office. By the time I got back to the helijet, Virgil and Alan had the truck backed out and loaded.

We got in, and with Alan behind the wheel, we headed out. The Rigor was equipped with GPS, and Alan followed the directions to the Mid Western Highway. The highway was a major trucking route, but Alan threaded his way past the big 24-wheelers with ease. Virgil sat in the front passenger seat, checking over his gun.

I sat in the back, watching the land slip past. It was all farming and with the wheat just turning golden, I was struck with how much it looked like Kansas. As we drove down the road, I said quietly, "When I told the guy at the airport where we were going, he said we'd be dead if we went out there."

Virgil turned around in his seat. "What else did he say?"

I shook my head. "Not a lot. Just that there was a witch out there, and that Scott and John were as good as dead. When I tried to get him to tell me more, he clammed up."

Virgil just stared at me for a few moments. Then he raised his wrist comm. "Virgil Tracy to base. Dad, we've got a problem."

I couldn't see my dad's face, but I could sure hear his trepidation when he answered. "What kind of problem, son."

"I'm not really sure what it means, but the locals are aware of this woman, and avoid her. One of them told Gordon that people who go out to her farm die."

After a long pause, my father said slowly, "So this may not have been directed specifically at us?"

Virgil shook his head. "It's hard to say, but I think there's at least a chance that John was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I should have come with you."

All three of us shook our heads at that one. Virgil answered for us all. "No, Dad, we need you there."

It was no less true for being simply put. We all relied on Dad's brains and common sense when we were out in the field. It was way too easy to get caught up in the emotions of a rescue and lose focus. Dad never let that happen.

"Geezus." I looked out the front windshield to see what Alan was looking at.

I felt my jaw tighten up at what I saw. A barbed wire fence stood running at right angles from the road off into the distance, but the demarcation was barely necessary. On one side of the fence, the wheat stood in knee-high golden waves. On the other side, the land was untended, and in fact, looked blighted.

Regardless of what we felt about Kalvesta, we were all descended from hardworking wheat farmers. To see good land mistreated like this hurt something deep inside. Both Virgil and Alan had the same tension and I knew they hated this as much as I did.

"Dad, we'll have to get back to you." Virgil glanced down at the GPS and said softly, "We're here."