They were in the car - trunk - again, dressed much more appropriately than before, but bound in cuffs nonetheless. Gordon found one of the duffle bags that had been thrown in with them and was currently using it as a pillow. His head was still pounding from the mild concussion courtesy of Owens' cane and the sleepless night plagued by images of his brother's potential demise. At least they'd given him something for the immediate ache when he'd asked before being shoved in the trunk, citing how important it was for him to be able to focus. Today, especially.
This part of the job - his part - relied entirely on him being skillful enough to lift an ID card, plant the fake, only to have to steal it back and replace the original. Yes, he could pick a candy bar out of a goon's pocket, but a task that big was going to require a lot more than luck.
Parker knew that and had spent much of their time in solitude training him on the bare basics. The trip to the loft hadn't helped matters, but that hadn't been planned even if he got some enjoyment from the dark bruises over a couple of the henchmen's faces. His own bruises were another matter, but nothing he hadn't experienced before. They just made the cramped space behind Parker that much more uncomfortable.
"Hey, Parker?" Gordon kept his voice low. The response was just as quiet with a hint of apprehension. He could understand, seeing as it would be the aquanaut on his own - plus a handful of lackeys - for this part of the job. A little light humor seemed in order, "You think they'll pick us up a pizza if we ask super nice?"
A scoffed chuckle, "What, the bread and cold eggs not hittin' the spot?"
The reminder sent a groan from his already twisted gut. Concussions, car rides, and cold eggs were a terrible combination, "Oh right, maybe just a milkshake then? That's not too much to ask?"
"Aimin' too low there, Cooper," the spark was back with the distraction. "Filet, butter still sizzlin' in the pan, roast vegetables with cream sauce and potatoes, preferably mashed with a bit of chives. Bread and butter puddin' for dessert."
They felt the car slow just a bit before shifting lanes. It was the largest direction change since they'd left the house.
"I'd just be happy with some junk food," a rare thing for him, but enjoyable nonetheless. "But, now that you mention it, I haven't had decent lasagna in ages. Cheese, meat, pasta - man, that'd be great."
The car moved over again and, this time, it began to slow before coming to a stop. That effectively quieted the excruciating talk of food until the trunk popped open, revealing the daylight beyond. Parker was extricated by two of the larger goons, disappearing from sight as another set of men reached in to retrieve the blonde. The rough treatment sent dull spikes through his ribs and he stifled a groan as his feet hit the ground.
Gordon was led into the vehicle to sit next to Parker, a disgruntled expression plastered on Owens' face. Gordon couldn't help poking the bear, "So, we stopping for take-out?" He tried not to laugh as the stomach of one of the goons rumbled in agreement. The smirk that resulted from his efforts was no help.
"Sorry," he wasn't, "we're approachin' our separation point, gentlemen."
Gordon's heart rate soared for only a moment. The separation point was where he would head off with the infiltration team. Parker would be staying with Owens. Sure, he was a competent rescue operative, skilled ex-WASP officer, and could take on a rogue submarine in only his exo-suit, but the thought of being pulled away from his only comrade in this heist slash kidnapping was unnerving. Suddenly, what little appetite he had was gone.
The car continued on, oblivious to his struggle. A bag was tossed onto his lap as Owens provided further explanation, "You'll be able to get changed once you're in the van. Stick with Ray while you're inside. I don't need to remind you what will happen if you deviate?" The aquanaut shook his head with a deepening frown.
"Ray" was a much less threatening individual by looks alone, but the cool glare Gordon had received during one of the briefings was warning not to test him. The aquanaut knew the type - had seen enough of the quiet ones in WASP surprise the men who relied on brute force. Ray had been in the meeting when Gordon had snapped. He hadn't done anything as the rest of the room converged, but the blonde was certain he didn't want to show his hand until he absolutely needed to.
They eventually came to another clearing, off the road and out of sight. Gordon was taken after one last glance to Parker. The elder man's expression held nothing discernable other than frustration towards their situation. There was no pep talk or a simple "you've got this." Neither of them wanted this to go as planned, but if it didn't, it could mean an untimely death. Gordon wasn't going to risk that if he could help it.
Ray met him at the door to a catering truck and motioned him inside. There were two others, all dressed in the black slacks and shirts of the catering company they would be blending in with. It seemed so cliche at first sight and Gordon had to force himself not to voice it. They looked like something out of a movie. They were supposed to assume people wouldn't ask questions about a group of waiters no one had met before. He was potentially going to have to make small talk without revealing his predicament.
Worst of all, there was the concern of being recognized.
Gordon Tracy couldn't show up at a major global security firm event, waiting tables. It would throw the entire operation on its head without a chance for recourse.
"Get dressed," Ray ordered bluntly, taking a seat as they pulled away from their transfer point.
A quick glance around and he groaned, "I'm starting to think you guys just like seeing my boxers." Ray glared, but didn't bite, focusing on the communication gear, something of which Gordon was very curious to try out. He highly doubted they would let him, but given the chance, a slight change of frequency could do the job.
Even in the cramped space, the aquanaut changed with the efficiency needed for small, underwater craft. The suit was fitted to his measurements, which surprised him in an unnerving way. Gordon pushed the creeped out feeling to the back of his mind and found a bench seat to secure himself.
"Here," an ID card filled his view and Gordon took it, reading the name above the catering company.
"Dick Moran - cool," straight faced and a little suspicious of the chuckles coming from the other men. "Real group of professionals y'got here."
"You just worry about doin' your job and maybe you'll get to keep your - nametag," amber eyes met the sadistic gleam in Ray's and his original perception of the man seemed spot on. Dangerous and focused. Not the best combination if Gordon wanted to find a way to better his and Parker's chances of rescue.
"I'll try to keep that in mind," he kept his voice flippant. The problem he'd identified early crept forward, "So, what if someone recognizes me?"
Ray's brow lifted, "You expecting to see people who know you?"
It was very likely, "Well, I have been hanging out with one of the world's most recognized socialites. I know I'm just the hired help, but you never know with the tabloids and all."
"And you're bringing this up now?" There was no anger, only a challenge that warned about any other surprises Gordon might be hiding.
He just shrugged, "Didn't seem important at the time, y'know, with all the seclusion and the like."
A grunt before a tube was passed to him, "Run some of that through your hair. You'll effectively be a brunette for the day."
The aquanaut took it and turned it over in his hand. There was no brand or instructions, leaving him with the distinct feeling it was homemade. Gross. He followed Ray's instructions anyway, feeling the weight of the paste like that of Scott's hair gel. It seemed appropriate to style it in the same way as his eldest brother. A towel removed the rest from his fingers.
"Wear these," a pair of black rimmed glasses landed in his lap. Looking through the lenses, they were obviously props and he slid them on.
"How do I look?" Gordon posed with his thumb under his chin and lips pouting just enough to be absurd.
The man across from him scoffed, "It's certainly an improvement from the surfer boy look."
Right, working with a bunch of assholes, Gordon didn't flinch as he carded his fingers through the dried gel to loosen the strands.
Giving up on any further banter with his captives, the aquanaut turned his attention to the window. He could see mountains in the distance, snow capped and usually beautiful for sightseers. Gordon had seen similar views from his seat in Thunderbird 2, climbed some with Scott, and cleared away snow when it'd fallen onto unsuspecting skiers. Right now, he could almost picture one of his brothers' 'birds cresting the peak in all its glory to come take him home.
Far too soon, they pulled up to a gate, the company officer leaning out of the small hut to check their credentials. They matched what was in the system, predictably, and within seconds they were through the gate and headed towards the loading dock.
No turning back.
"Don't lose this," Ray pressed the IT lead's fake badge into Gordon's hand. A breakaway lanyard with the company's logo joined it.
"Right," the aquanaut tucked it into his pant's pocket. "Lead the way."
He followed the men out of the truck, meeting up with the other catering staff to listen to the lead's instructions. No one asked the questions Gordon found so obvious glaring. Who were these strangers standing at the back of the room? Why were there four more workers? He was waiting for anyone to ask.
But no one did, fanning out to collect their trays. To them, this was probably just another job. A paycheck for standing with dishes of h'orderves and champagne until their backs screamed at them for a break.
There was some comfort in knowing he might not have to explain himself, not that he couldn't spin a tale with the best of them. He just couldn't afford anything that might put Parker's life in jeopardy.
Ray handed him a tray with a side of intense glare and Gordon's lips thinned. Time to get his part of the job done and hope Parker had taught him enough.
The main room was a bustling sea of well dressed employees. He suspected most of them were higher ups and not the people doing the actual desk work. The amount of money that had gone into the decorations and food spoke volumes to that. The potential for investors to also be present crossed his mind. That meant a whole lot of valuables. Gordon suddenly wondered where the other two goons had gone off to, but his fears were held at bay with the realization that Owens wouldn't have needed a pickpocket if he already had some. He found the henchmen standing by their exit point.
The aquanaut was so caught up in reading the room, he almost jumped as a flute was lifted from his tray and he turned, smile automatically gracing his face to meet the woman who had helped herself to his offerings. Her eyes said something he wasn't in the mood to combat. A shift and there was a familiar face reaching for another flute of champagne.
Harold Stone, head of IT, and Gordon's target offered no smile of his own, instead, pulling the woman away with a hand around her waist.
Well, crud, there went opportunity number one.
Ray appeared by his side, looking as serious as ever, "What do you need?"
Amber eyes analyzed the situation and he did his best not to grin, "Distract the wife - get her to move away from him. That should work." A long silence as Ray stared at him. Gordon shrugged, "She likes eye candy. Go flaunt yourself."
The man's nose crinkled in disgust, but he didn't argue, instead weaving his way through the crowd until he was in their mark's way. Gordon kept close behind Stone, the fake badge and lanyard slipping from his pocket to rest in his palm. He caught the expression of Ray's face as he approached the woman still entwined, eyes meeting hers with an obviously come-hither stare. The smirk seemed unnatural to Gordon, but considering he'd only seen one meant to warn bodily harm, he guessed it would do.
The woman moved, jerking away from Stone and in an instant, Gordon let the fake badge slide down the IT supervisors shoulder while simultaneously unsnapping the active one. He was gone before Stone even uttered a grumble of frustration, reaching down to retrieve what he assumed had fallen from his neck. The aquanaut didn't care. He'd done his job and was heading for the back as quickly as the crowd would allow.
"That was fast," one of the henchmen met him at the door to take the badge. He disappeared as soon as it was in his hand and Gordon busied himself restocking his tray. Step one might have gone well, but they still needed to switch it back.
Another concern popped back up as Ray entered the food prep area. Gordon guessed the man looked pleased, but his focus fell on the wrist communicator. He knew Ray had an earpiece to limit suspicion, but if Gordon could find some way to get the device, there was hope. The problem was getting it without alerting the henchman.
"What's your next plan?" Ray questioned as he began to refill the trays. "Not sure a second go at the wife would be wise."
Gordon's brow lifted at the humor behind the observation, "What, you told her you were already in a relationship? Super serious? You gonna propose?"
He grinned with the frustrated expression that followed, something typically reserved for his eldest brother. A grunt, "Let's just say Mr. Stone wasn't too appreciative of the flirting. Might get a bit heated next time around."
"I'm okay with that," his grin grew at the thought of Ray getting punched in the face by their mark. It would certainly cause a distraction.
The other goon returned, handing the badge to Ray who smiled, seemingly unperturbed by the insinuation. "All set?" An affirmative and the smirk turned to Gordon, "Cooper here's gonna go make our gentleman very angry."
The grin fell as amber eyes grew wide, "How is that a good plan?"
"Gotta get close to make the switch," Ray shrugged. "Can't get much closer than having someone take a swing at you."
Before he could protest, the badge was back in his hand, along with a fresh tray of champagne. As he re-emerged, facing the throng of guests and employees, his head spun with the need to find an alternative. Unfortunately, it wasn't too difficult to find Stone, the couple standing at the back wall. The woman looked disgruntled as much as the IT supervisor looked livid. Relationship trouble wasn't the only problem he'd be having today.
Ray was replaced by one of the other goons, the man giving Gordon a slight shove. No turning back.
The woman's eye caught him first, a wicked smile splitting her face as she moved defiantly past her husband, ready to have her next drink, "Oh, just in time! Thank you, darling."
His heart fluttered for a brief moment and he let himself fall into the role, "A please, M'lady." The aquanaut topped it off with a toothy smile that had captured many a heart in high school. If the red tinge to her cheeks was any indication, it had worked.
A second later, she was glued to his arm - but it was only a second.
"The hell do you think you're doing?" Stone's voice was grating against the sound of the festivities.
Gordon didn't have a chance to break free of the woman as her husband pulled her away, before towering over the aquanaut, "Whoa - sir -"
A fist came up to knot into the black shirt fabric, "Who do you think you are? That is my wife!"
Stone was angry - far too angry for something this simple. He was risking assault charges from someone he'd never met and Gordon hadn't really done anything.
The fingers in his shirt loosened a hair, the man in front of him beet red, his other fist drawn back to strike - and he wobbled. Gordon watched as Stone blinked, coordination lost to whatever was happening within him.
A split second decision and the tray of drinks fell with a clattering of metal and shattered glass. Instinct kicked in, the aquanaut looping an arm around the man's waist for support as he crumpled to the floor. There was a scream and cries for help, but Gordon ignored them to focus on the semi-conscious man.
"Sir? Can you hear me?" The authority in his voice felt as natural as breathing, but did nothing to catch the gaze sweeping aimlessly over the ceiling. The wife was on his other side, tears in her eyes and Gordon refocused, "Ma'am, does your husband have any conditions you know about?"
She shook her head, "No-no, nothing he's ever mentioned."
By now, they had an audience, one of the women talking frantically into her phone. He tried to ignore them, checking a pulse, still present, if a bit rapid. Respirations had slowed, which was concerning. Stone tried to lift his arms, only managing to sluggishly bat away Gordon's assessing fingers for a moment. "Hey - sir - can you tell me what's wrong?"
Stone looked up at him with confusion and fear, his eyelids drooping once more. There were ideas floating through the iR operative's mind and to his surprise, a phone appeared in front of him. It was the woman who'd been calling for medical help.
"They want to talk to you," her voice was pleading as she urged the phone into his hand. He didn't hesitate, shoving it between his ear and shoulder.
The moment he went to speak, he froze. The plan. Owens' men. All of it came crashing down on him and for an excruciating moment, Gordon couldn't find the words. When a voice on the other end alerted him to their need for more information, his brain stuttered, "Uh - um - ye-yeah - sorry, I've got a caucasian male, mid-forties, possible hypoglycemia or stroke." The voice gave him instructions he already knew - keep him calm until help arrived - but he couldn't help wanting to do more.
The crowd parted as he set the phone down with the speaker open and another woman fell to her knees by Stone, "Oh - I told him he's been going too hard!"
"What?" Gordon pinned her with eyes demanding answers.
"I'm Mr. Stone's office assistant," she explained hastily. "He's been working non-stop this week to get everything ready. I don't think he's been eating. Just energy drinks."
He nodded, "Can you grab me some juice or sugar?"
Without missing a beat, she pulled her purse up from the floor, opening it to retrieve a packet of gel. It was handed over with an unnecessary explanation of a mother with diabetes and never leaving home without a glucose pack.
Whatever the reason, Gordon gratefully took it, returning the phone and pulling the small tab before squeezing the syrup into the man's mouth.
Done.
All that was left was to wait.
Except a pair of strong hands took hold of his bicep, pulling him back up and away from the group. For a moment, he thought it could be a medic coming in to take his place, but a quick look behind him revealed Ray looking more than a little angry. He had a moment to right himself, the hand never letting up the vice-like grip until they made it through the doors and out to the van. Gordon caught himself on the side of it as he was released.
"What. The hell. Was that?" Ray growled.
"It's called a medical emergency," Gordon spat back now that he'd regained some footing. "He needed help."
"No, all he needed was his badge back, not some goodie two shoes trying to deviate from the plan," the man took a step closer and for the second time in less than five minutes, Gordon found himself the victim of intimidating height.
It was the wrong tactic against the aquanaut, who had years of experience sparring with larger brothers, but the message was clear. Ray wanted nothing more than to pummel him into oblivion. Too bad he couldn't. The satisfaction Gordon would've felt in a different situation was marred by the card and lanyard he shoved into man's gut.
"Job's done and nobody died," amber eyes stared down the taller man, waiting for what would happen next with a steadiness drawn from adrenaline.
Ray turned the card over in his hand with an unimpressed expression before tucking it into his pocket, "You're lucky you got this or else the ride back would be a lot less pleasant."
"Right, 'cause the ride in was so amazing," the rear doors opened and he was shoved inside without further comment, unless the grunts were decipherable. His seat was still empty and he took it, leaning back against the inner wall. His gut twisted with the rev of the engine, knowing just what he'd been a part of - willing or not. He hated it. Hated these people for disrupting lives.
Part of his mind went to Parker, wanting to be angry with his companion for his past dealings. Gordon couldn't bring himself to be upset for long. This wasn't Parker's life anymore. There was no need to redeem himself. He was just as much a victim in this dimented game of strategy.
He missed home and the thought of it forced him to shut his eyes, letting his mind drift to what his family was doing right this moment. He wondered what Virgil would be doing if he'd survived. Raising hell to get out of the infirmary. Giving Scott a hard time. But Gordon knew, even injuries wouldn't slow them down much. Nothing would stop them from their search. They would find him.
He just had to hold out long enough.