Jeff took the final turning, pulling onto a stretch of tarmac and stopping the car. He squinted, staring at the non-descript grey buildings before double checking the co-ordinates from John. His son didn't make mistakes, not with something like this, but Jeff had expected more: security cameras, patrols; anything to keep curious tourists away.
The base his boys had first arrived at had only been temporary. But this was a permanent location.
He glanced at Scott, reluctant to shake him awake but having no choice. Scott woke with a touch, breathing deeply as he rolled the crick in his neck, mirroring his father's expression as he stared out the window.
"Is this it?"
"Apparently."
Scott nodded, tensing. Jeff still wasn't sure it was a good idea bringing his son with him, but Scott hadn't given him the option. He'd insisted as soon as he found out, waiting by the car when Jeff tried to slip away without the others noticing. The only way Jeff could satisfy himself that Virgil's abductors were secured was by taking Scott with him. He wasn't the little boy Jeff could carry to bed when he didn't do as he was told anymore and even ordering him to stay behind had fallen on deaf ears.
"Dad."
Scott's voice was quiet and when Jeff looked at him, he nodded out the window. They had bigger problems than his stubbornness right now: three men were jogging towards them, and he finally saw the weapons he'd been waiting for.
His eyes narrowed. John had told him about the rescue; how the army had beaten him and Scott to the location. They were treading a thin line by turning up unannounced, and although Jeff wanted answers, he'd do nothing to endanger Scott. He wasn't sure this followed his usual caution when making a decision, but it was too late now.
"Let me do the talk-,"
He broke off, shaking his head at the open door and empty seat. He unclipped his belt, watching as Scott approached the men, hands in the air. Jeff opened his door, hearing Scott talking but not what he was saying. One man ran back the way he had come.
Jeff got out, but stayed by the car until Scott beckoned him forward. Much as he wanted to take the lead, he had to acknowledge Scott's own military past and the contacts he had here. He doubted Shawn was the only soldier who'd transferred.
"My father," Scott introduced him, "Jeff Tracy."
Both men saluted, and Jeff returned it, the years falling away.
"It's an honour, Sir," one said, "but you can't be here."
"We'll wait for Shawn." Scott was unphased by the gun aimed at him as he dropped his hands. "We're not moving, won't try anything, you have my word."
The soldiers exchanged glances. One nodded, and they both lowered their guns. Jeff knew better than to think they had let their guard down.
He gave his son a sideways look. He'd seen him in command in the field more times than he could count and knew he'd held a position of authority in the Air Force. But seeing him now, in total control of the situation despite being unarmed, made him truly appreciate Scott's leadership skills. He'd relied on them for years, and never really noticed.
They didn't have to wait long before two more figures appeared. One was a member of the initial trio, the other unknown. But Scott's tension eased and he smiled, and Jeff realised it must be Shawn approaching.
"Dismissed," Shawn said, and the three soldiers disappeared back into the compound.
Jeff took his measure as Shawn rested his hands on his hips, scowling at Scott.
"You never quit, do you?"
Scott shrugged, still at ease. "My dad wanted to look the bastards in the eye."
Shawn glanced at him, and Jeff held out a hand. Formal introductions were made, and Shawn sighed, looking resigned.
"I can't promise anything," he warned, gesturing for them to follow him. "But I can give you a coffee before sending you on your way again."
Jeff wondered if he realised it would take force to get Scott off the base without giving him what he wanted. If he was honest, Jeff knew he wasn't any better.
Shawn led them inside, and Jeff looked around. The interior wasn't as casual; steel bars braced the doors and checkpoints were scattered in several locations. Armed soldiers patrolled the corridors.
It was a show of might, but Jeff could tell this was a place short on funds: damp permeated the air and plaster was peeling from the walls. Brains could turn it around with a few hours and a couple of gadgets, but it was a far cry from what the billionaire was used to – even from his own Air Force days.
Shawn showed them to an office, collaring one of his men to bring refreshments.
"How's your brother?" Shawn asked, and Scott sighed.
"Alive." His tone was bitter, angry, and Jeff shot him a warning look. If he lost his temper now, they would never see the men responsible.
"He needs to heal, but he's alive, thanks to you and your men," Jeff interrupted. He glanced around. "Why're you in this area?"
"I'm afraid that's classified, Sir." Shawn gestured for the returning soldier to come in, and they waited in silence while he put the tray down and left with a quick salute.
"What are you doing here?" Shawn countered, his expression grave.
"I need to understand why," Jeff said quietly. His hands clenched. "I need to see them, look them in the eye, and understand why they did this to my boy."
"I don't know," Shawn said, running a hand through his hair. "I can't let civilians wander around confronting prisoners."
"Shawn, c'mon," Scott pleaded. "You know it's personal; we don't care what else you're doing here."
"Try telling that to my commanding officer," Shawn argued, "I'm already in it for letting you and John go."
"Straight there and back, under escort," Jeff proposed. He was facing two hot-headed young men who both thought they knew best. It wasn't his military background he needed right now.
"I-,"
"Plus sharing any information we uncover."
"Information?"
"I want to know who their buyers are."
"We'll find that out," Shawn said. Jeff shook his head.
"In time, maybe. But you have a mission here; this isn't the priority. It's a distraction: one I can take off your hands."
"Please," Scott said, his voice softer. "We both know the commanders care about results, not the body count."
Shawn shifted, avoiding Scott's gaze, and Jeff knew there was more between the two of them than serving at the same time.
"I've got contacts," Jeff said. "A few phone calls and you don't have to worry about this."
He kept his focus on Shawn, ignoring Scott's surprised look. He'd always made it clear that International Rescue protected people from nature, that was all. But this was different. He had set up the operation to save lives, and if he didn't use those resources now, he was a hypocrite, the type of man he'd sworn he would never be. If he couldn't protect his own children, it was all for nothing.
Scott was right: this was personal.
Jeff wanted control over those men, and no army was going to stand in his way.
Shawn fidgeted. "I want to help. God knows I still owe you, Scott. But I can't show civilians around the base and get away with it."
"The choice isn't yours, son." Jeff kept his voice even, soft, but Shawn narrowed his eyes.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning I've already struck a deal with your commanding officer. You have full authority to escort us to the prisoners and give us what we want."
"I-," Shawn stood up. "Give me a moment?"
He hurried from the room and to – Jeff suspected – the closest phone. Glancing at Scott, he saw his son looked astonished.
"I wanted to see what he'd do first," Jeff said, "see what kind of man he was before taking his choice away."
Shawn was a good person, and his need to both help his friends and follow orders was a trait Jeff saw too often in Scott. He'd seen the man genuinely wanted to help, but felt he couldn't, and that was enough for Jeff. He'd had Penny start pulling in favours and calls as soon as he reassured himself Virgil was alive. John's co-ordinates only confirmed the base's whereabouts – Jeff had already found out. Not that he planned to tell his son that.
Shawn didn't keep them waiting for long. He returned, and motioned for them to follow him.
"This way."
Jeff winked when Scott flashed him a quick grin, and they followed Shawn without a word.
Soldiers roamed everywhere, and almost all looked at Scott with wary respect. Jeff knew how bases like this worked: those not part of the raid still would have heard that Scott had got involved, even if they didn't know the full story. But it went further than that: a civilian interfering in their operation wouldn't have this effect. They knew more about Scott's past with their captain than Jeff did.
He didn't say anything though, not until Shawn had shown them into another room and told them to wait there before disappearing.
"What did you do?"
"What?" Scott looked confused. Jeff smiled at him.
"These men believe you sacrificed a career with the Air Force for a playboy lifestyle, lazing in the sun, and occasionally working for me. But they look at you with respect. What did you do to earn that: what's the history between you and Shawn?"
"I saved his life," Scott muttered, a flush creeping up his neck. "He'd been shot down, and the rest of us called home. I might have… not followed that order and gone back for him."
"Into enemy territory?"
Scott nodded. Pride swelled in Jeff's heart as he looked at his son. Even before International Rescue, Scott had been defying the odds and saving people.
The men's looks made sense. If there was one thing that earned a man a soldier's undying loyalty, it was disobeying orders to save the life of a friend. They all knew those calling the shots had never properly experienced being out on the field.
"And now that action saved your brother," he murmured. Even with all their skills, they had still needed the army to get Virgil out. Scott looked tense, but Jeff understood why. Scott wasn't the only one who hated relying on others to keep their family safe.
They sat in awkward silence while they waited for Shawn, neither of them knowing what to say. Every moment they spent here, he wasn't with Virgil and Gordon, making sure they were okay, that they were healing. He wasn't watching over Alan and John. He wasn't keeping Scott calm – he could sense the agitation each time his eldest drummed his fingers.
Shawn didn't leave them waiting long, though.
"This way," he said, appearing in the doorway, but jerking his head down the corridor. They followed without a word.
Shawn stopped with his hand on a door. "He said his name is Max, but that's all we've got out of him so far. We're sure he's their leader. You can talk to him, but nothing else. Don't get close to him, don't touch him, and for God's sake, Scott, don't punch him."
"I wouldn't!" Scott protested, but Jeff saw that Shawn believed it as much as he did. He touched his son's arm fleetingly, offering comfort to Scott – wishing he could leave him outside - even as he steeled himself to enter the room.
The man was sitting at a table, hands cuffed to a bar. He was leaning back with an easy smirk.
Keeping his expression impassive, Jeff pulled around a chair and sat, watching him closely.
This was the person who had kidnapped and almost killed his sons. This was the man who had attempted to drown one and cut the other one to pieces to sell to the highest bidder. Jeff's hand clenched, a muscle in his jaw throbbed, but he kept his emotions from his face. Scott leant against the wall, his arms folded, glaring.
To Jeff's discomfort, Max was watching Scott. His smirk widened, a predatory look in his eye that made him appear deranged.
"You'd fetch a pretty price," he said. "Good shape – healthy, strong…"
Scott started forward, but Jeff held up a hand. Scott obeyed – for now. A few more comments like that, and Jeff wouldn't be able to hold Scott back.
A few more comments like that, and he wouldn't want to.
"Who is your buyer?" Jeff asked, his voice calm despite the turmoil of emotions churning inside.
"Now why would I want to tell you that?"
"Because," Jeff said, his tone pleasant, "My people will make this army look like child's play."
Max slouched, unconcerned.
Jeff wasn't surprised. He had expected as much. But it would have been nice if, for once, things could be that easy. He'd had to try, for his own sake, and his sons', but he felt a savage pleasure in knowing one call to Lady Penelope, and he'd have a name before the end of the week.
The next thing John was going to persuade Brains to invent were more comfortable hospital chairs.
Alan was with Gordon, and John had spent the afternoon with Virgil. It had been up to him to break the news about where their father and eldest brother were. Virgil had gone pale, but taken it better than John thought he would. Knowing their dad and Scott had the support of a full military base behind them probably helped.
Virgil was sitting up, but leaning back on the pillows, his complexion still ashen. He was awake but only just, watching television. John had pulled out a book, knowing that, for the time being, he could trust his brother and father had everything under control. Virgil wasn't paying attention to his show; he was trying to keep himself alert.
"I'll wake you when they get here?" John offered, looking over the top of his book at his brother. It came as no surprise when Virgil shook his head and John went back to reading. He understood that his brother wanted to feel in control of something, even if it was just keeping himself awake. Still, John wished the others would hurry back: Virgil should be relaxing, but John wasn't going to tell him that – he'd leave that job to Scott.
As it was, they didn't have to wait much longer. John finished his chapter and put his book aside. Standing, he stretched and twisted, attempting to get the blood flowing again. Virgil glanced up with a knowing look, and John shrugged.
"New project for Brains?" he offered, "I'm going to grab a drink, you want one?"
"Please."
They had cleared Virgil to eat and drink what he liked. There was no internal damage, and they wanted his strength back as quickly as possible. John wasn't sure how long that attitude would last when they witnessed the copious amounts of coffee the Tracys consumed. That Virgil was attempting to keep himself awake wouldn't go down well either.
John reached the door, just as it started opening from the other side.
"Or not." He shot Virgil a grin over his shoulder before pulling it open.
His father moved past, tense but holding a tray of coffees.
Scott followed, face like thunder, and his hand cradled against his chest.
"What the -," John glanced at his father before grabbing Scott's wrist. This dressing looked to be military and Scott wrenched free. John pinched the bridge of his nose: his brother was going to do himself a permanent injury at this rate.
"What did you punch this time?" he said, exasperated.
"Not what," his father said, his tone terse, "who."
John returned to his seat, picking up two cups, and handing one to Virgil. He ignored the disapproving look from his dad, figuring he'd already decided to get his brother a coffee before the others arrived.
"What happened?" he asked, perching on the edge of the stiff-backed chair again. Virgil turned off the television, and they gave their father and brother identical looks.
"Your co-ordinates were right," their dad began. "And with a bit of persuasion-,"
"Bribery, more like," Scott muttered.
"- Shawn let us in. We had a chat with one of them."
John knew this was no casual chat. Virgil went rigid.
"Who?" he whispered
"Calls himself Max, but I doubt that's his real name. He… Virgil? Virgil, are you alright?"
John also noticed how Virgil's face had lost the little colour it had regained. His hand drifted to his side, but John wasn't sure his brother knew that he'd done it.
The action told him everything. It wasn't some lackey they had spoken to. Max was the one who had tried to kill Virgil.
"Tell me you hit him really hard?" Virgil whispered. His trembling voice betrayed his fear, even though he kept his hands steady. Scott crossed the room, touching Virgil fleetingly on the shoulder as he nodded, but he kept moving until he was looking out of the window.
Virgil wasn't the only one struggling to hide his emotions.
John caught Virgil's eye, and his brother tilted his head towards Scott. John knew what he wanted, and gave him a teasing, long-suffering look before standing up, crossing the room until he stood next to his big brother. He made sure to give him some space though, having no intention of being the next person Scott punched.
"What happened?" he murmured. His voice was quiet, but he knew the others were listening. Scott didn't need to know that though; he needed to talk, not down-play things for his audience. For once, Scott didn't seem to realise how closely he was being watched.
"That man has no soul," Scott said, his voice shaking as badly as Virgil's. "He didn't even care. Not that we caught him; not that his operation had been shut down; not that he'd murdered countless numbers over however long. He looked at me and saw another prize."
"And you wondered why I stopped you when we were out there," John muttered, shuddering at the thought of this Max getting his hands on any more of his brothers. Scott shot him a scathing look, but didn't speak. He gripped the windowsill before wincing, flexing out his bandaged hand and glaring at nothing.
"We tried to get him to tell us who his buyer was," Scott said.
"And?"
"He laughed in our faces." Scott spat, disgust and anger brimming.
He glanced over his shoulder to see his father had wrapped an arm around Virgil's shoulders. It was hard to say who was appreciating it more, especially considering Virgil hadn't regained any colour since Max's name had been mentioned. But it meant it was up to John to calm Scott down.
"So you went for him?" He nudged his brother playfully. "As violence solves everything, right?"
Scott didn't react, other than to shrug John away and continue staring out of the window.
"Shawn was watching the whole time," his father continued where Scott had left off. John turned to face him. "Things weren't allowed to escalate."
"Maybe they should have," Scott snarled. "It's the only way to get answers from someone like that."
John understood the extent of Scott's fury. He'd faced the man who had tried to kill their brothers, and he hadn't been able to do anything about it. Scott wasn't one for staying on the side-lines when their family was threatened.
John was glad Shawn had interfered. There was no telling what would have happened, and it wasn't a road John was prepared to lose his brother down. But he still understood Scott's frustration.
"John?" Virgil's voice was quiet, but unlike before, it was steady. "Take Dad and get some lunch, would you?"
John opened his mouth, his protest that their father knew where to go on the tip of his tongue. But then he saw the look on Virgil's face and knew he wanted time alone with Scott. Considering their brother was almost quivering in fury, it was the best thing. He nodded and moved towards the door, his father shadowing him. Both of them paused, looking back when they reached it.
"Don't get out of bed," Jeff warned, his stern tone undermined by the twinkle in his eye. John led the way out, but they stopped as soon as the door shut behind them.
"Come on," John said, "we may as well get something to eat. We can't hover here while Virgil tries to get through Scott's thick head."
"He's taking this hard, you know."
"He's not the only one."
John knew how close Virgil and Scott were. But he didn't see why that should give Scott a free pass to act how he wished, while John had to hold it together. Virgil was his brother too!
His father's hand rested on his shoulder, and John let go of his frustration with a sigh. No one suggested that he shouldn't be experiencing the same emotions, but they all knew that, out of all of them, Scott was the one prone to rash decisions when he was angry.
"Do you think it would have worked?" John eventually asked as they stepped into the elevator. "If Scott had longer with the guy, would he have got answers out of him?"
"No." Jeff spoke without hesitating, and when John glanced at him, his mouth was set in a way his sons knew not to cross. Then he softened. "Not without losing himself. These men have already tried to take so much from us, they are not taking your brother as well."
"So…" John waited until they got off and started walking again. "What's the plan?"
His father was a Tracy as much as the rest of them – more so, in fact. He wouldn't let this go any more than Scott would. The ones who had held the knife might be in custody, but it wasn't enough. Jeff Tracy would not stop until he had destroyed the entire network.
John knew where he and his brothers got their stubbornness from.
His dad glanced at him. "I spoke to Penny on our way back. She's going to contact MI5, see what strings they can pull to take custody. It shouldn't be a problem: they're not the army's priority; they'll be pleased to see the back of them. Once Penny gets her people on the case, we'll have an answer in a few days."
"We?"
John knew how his father felt about using International Rescue resources for personal matters. But he also knew what the man would do for family, and he'd use everything at their disposal, from Tracy Industries to Brains' inventions, if it got them answers.
"We," Jeff confirmed. "They nearly killed two of your brothers. Who else has the motivation, the ability, to get the job done? Who else has the right?"
"How're we going to explain that?"
"I'm working on that part," his dad admitted, his tone softening.
John smiled. The plan had been concocted during the drive back from the base – while also focusing on navigating and calming Scott down. It wasn't surprising he hadn't thought through all the variables yet.
"I can help with that bit," John said. It was the kind of challenge he loved – although not the sort he'd admit to his father.
"Wait until we hear from Penny."
John nodded, not registering the warning. He'd been annoyed that Scott had been the one to go, to look this Max guy in the eye. But John had far more satisfying ways of striking his enemy, and it didn't result in a busted hand, either.
"Dad?"
"Yes?"
"We're going to make them pay, aren't we?"
His voice was low and dangerous. It wasn't who they were – but John didn't care. Family meant everything to him, and no one messed with it.
"Oh yes." The glint in his dad's eye matched the steel in his tone. "They're going to rue the day they shot at my sons."
John grinned, and it wasn't his usual warm smile.