Battlefield

by Debbie Kluge

Story 5 in the Jealousy Series. Jonny and Jessie face separation and their own personal fears as Jonny tries to help a young friend.

17. Heartbreak

Chapter 17 -- Heartbreak

Heartache to heartache, we stand.

Benton Quest stopped his car at a red light near the Rockport grocery store, and wondered idly if he should run in and pick up something for dinner. He knew Jonny had planned to take care of it, but . . . well . . . After a brief debate, he decided he would go home first. If Jonny hadn't picked up anything, there was always pizza. Furthermore, he was tired and really didn't have the ambition to go shopping. As he pulled away from the stoplight, he grimaced. The day's meeting was just about what he had expected -- long and tedious. Vernon Lyons was not one of Benton's favorite people, and today he had been particularly annoying. And, he admitted to himself, it hadn't helped that he'd been restless all day long. Something had been telling him that he needed to be home, and he would be very glad when he got there.

It was dusk as he turned onto the long winding road that led through the trees to the Compound itself. As the main gate came into view, he reached out and pressed the dashboard switch that would trigger it to open. But the gate didn't budge. He slammed on the brakes, coming to a skidding halt with the car's front bumper resting against the wrought iron of the gate. What's wrong with this thing? he wondered. He hit the switch again. Nothing. With a sigh, Benton put the car in reverse and backed up to the drive-up control panel a short distance from the gate. Evidently, the switch was dead; probably the battery. It had been that kind of day. He was really going to be glad when Race got back from Colombia. He was the one who ensured that things like this didn't happen.

He opened the car window and keyed-in the gate access code. Still nothing. He frowned and tried it again. This time, IRIS' soft voice responded. "FACILITY ON LEVEL THREE SECURITY LOCKDOWN. NO UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS PERMITTED."

"What the hell?!" Benton's day-long feeling of uneasiness exploded into real fear. A level three security lockdown was designed to repel both internal and external attack, and was implemented from within the Compound. That meant someone had gotten in, and, in order to defend himself, Jonny had to get IRIS involved. Sharply, he said, "IRIS, this is Benton Quest. Institute command override sequence."

"Voice recognition pattern confirmed. ENTER authorization code theta."

Desperately, Benton searched his memory. Random access authorization codes were great in theory, but were a lot harder to remember under pressure. He prayed he would remember this one correctly. IRIS was going to make it a whole lot harder if he botched the first attempt. Reaching out, he entered a ten-digit, alpha/numeric code into the keypad.

"AUTHORIZATION CODE ACCEPTED. PLEASE PLACE YOUR LEFT HAND ON THE RECOGNITION PANEL AND STATE YOUR FULL NAME AND TITLE."

Reaching out, he laid his hand flat on the opaque screen to the left of the keypad and said, "Dr. Benton Christopher Quest, Director and Senior Research Scientist, Quest Enterprises, Incorporated, Rockport, Maine." He had to follow the formula. He knew that the slightest mistake in any of the information would cause IRIS to abort the system override. But it was all he could do not to scream at the monitor to let him in. Where was Jonny? And Brandon? What had happened that caused Jonny to lock the place down? And why wasn't Jonny overriding the system from inside? IRIS would have notified him as soon as anyone turned off the main road into the drive. He could have overridden the security lockdown long before Benton ever reached the gate.

"HAND PRINT VERIFIED. VOICE PRINT VERIFIED. IDENTITY CONFIRMED. PLEASE PROCEED THROUGH THE MAIN GATE. SECURITY LOCKDOWN WILL REESTABLISH IN 20 SECONDS."

Good Lord, he even had it set in full defense mode. Basic and intermediate lockdown would have canceled when the override took effect. That meant it had to be shut down at the security terminal in the house. What had happened? Benton slammed the accelerator to the floor and sped toward the main complex. Screeching to a halt in front of the house, he bolted from the car and sprinted to the front door. Locked. Swearing viciously, he grabbed his keys and unlocked it. "Jonny!" he yelled as the door swung open. "Jonny, where are you?" He ran through the house, calling frantically for his son. But the house was silent, dark, and deserted. Finally, he stopped in the family room, panting for breath. "IRIS, where is Jonny?"

There was a brief pause, and then IRIS responded softly, "JONATHAN QUEST IS NOT WITHIN THE COMPOUND."

"Where is Brandon?"

"BRANDON SIMMONS IS NOT WITHIN THE COMPOUND."

"Where did they go?"

"UNKNOWN."

In the gathering darkness, Benton looked around, finally taking in the neat nature of the house. There didn't appear to have been a struggle of any kind. "Did they leave willingly?" Surely, Jonny wouldn't have put the Compound on lockdown if he and Brandon had simply left to go to a movie.

IRIS was a long time in responding. Finally, in a tone as close to uncertainty as a computer was capable of achieving, she said, "I DO NOT BELIEVE SO."

Benton strode to the security station and demanded, "Play back the last sequence of security footage that includes Jonny's departure from the Compound." There was a brief delay and then the security monitor flickered to life. The shot was a long one, taken with a telephoto lens from the camera mounted on the lighthouse. There was no audio. He could see his son, huddled against the wind at the edge of the cliff, talking to Brandon. He could see Brandon's frenzied response. Even from that distance, the distress in the younger boy was obvious. Horrified, Benton watched the earth give way, throwing Brandon over the edge of the cliff, and his son's frantic attempt to catch him. Slowly, his knees buckled and he sank to the floor with his face in his hands, the final images of his son sliding over the edge of the 100 foot drop indelibly etched into his memory forever.

***

Jessie stepped out of her tent and looked upward. The sky was iridescent with millions of stars. They glimmered like diamonds on black velvet. Her gaze dropped toward the western horizon. She could just see the Malenque pyramids, black on black, silhouetted in the distance. They created a patchwork void in the noisy darkness of the jungle that surrounded her. She shivered involuntarily. Seeing them like that made her feel like they were leaning in to swallow her up. Swiftly, she looked up at the sky again. She supposed it was beautiful. But, today had been a really bad day, and she found it very difficult to find beauty in much of anything.

She had waited for close to an hour that morning, before realizing that Ruben had no intention of bringing the cellphone back. Whatever the call had been about, it would seem he was expecting another one. She had finally given up, climbed down from her high perch, and gone back to work. She had been left alone until about mid-afternoon when her mother had found her. Estella had not been happy. She wanted everyone to concentrate on getting the surveying and grid work done, and was angry that Jessie wasn't working on it with the rest of them. They argued, and Estella finally ordered her to report to Ruben to work on completing the final survey lines. While working alone where she could think uninterrupted, Jessie had almost convinced herself that she needed to confide in her mother and beg once again to use the phone. However, after Estella snapped at her, Jessie stormed off without saying a word.

When she'd finally found Ruben, he was working all alone on the extreme southern end of the site, behind a huge temple. All of the workmen and other interns were out of sight, more than 100 yards away. She'd almost turned and run, but he'd grabbed her by the arm and dragged her over to the survey transit, telling her he would take the telescoping rod. He'd moved out to the first survey point, and, other than for necessary communications to set the gridlines, they worked in silence for the rest of the afternoon. They finished at sundown.

Jessie blindly stared upward and shivered again. What had happened next was not something she would soon forget.

As she was putting the equipment away, the situation she had feared the most suddenly occurred. Ruben came up behind her. He moved very softly and she hadn't realized he was there until he said, "Jessie, I want to talk with you."

She jumped and whirled to face him. As she did so, her grip on the transit slipped. She scrambled to regain her hold on the valuable piece of equipment, but Ruben jumped in and grabbed, as well. He bumped her hard and she staggered, trying to regain her balance. The next thing she knew, his arms were around her, her body pressed tightly against his. The transit, which had been in her hands seconds before, was gone. She pushed at him ineffectually, looking up with a scowl. "Let me go!"

As he looked down at her, she could sense something hard and calculating behind his eyes. It made her wish to be very, very far away. But, his voice was soft and wheedling as he said, "Please, Gatita, please give me a chance. I only want the opportunity to prove to you how much I care." He pulled her even closer and one hand moved to her neck, tangling itself in her hair. He lowered his head, and she could feel his mouth seeking hers.

"No!" She struggled harder, but she really didn't want to hurt him. "Let me go, Ruben!" He held her in an iron grip, refusing to release her. Suddenly, his left leg curled around hers, trying to lock her in place against him, while his other hand yanked her shirttail loose and slid up under her clothes. His breathing became heavier, and she felt his fingers skillfully unfastening her bra as he shifted his body against her, pressing his rapidly growing erection against her stomach.

She twisted and stomped down hard on the instep of his right foot. As he flinched, she brought the heel of her right hand straight up and struck him forcefully under the chin. His head snapped back sharply, and he grunted in pain. His grip loosened, but he still didn't release her. Smoothly, she shifted her weight to her left leg and brought her right knee up between his legs with all the force she could muster. With a strangled sound, his arms fell away and he staggered back. She grabbed one arm and with a practiced twist, she used his own weight to send him sailing over her shoulder to land hard on his back several feet away. He lay on the ground, grasping his groin with both hands, moaning, and gasping for breath.

"Keep your hands off of me!" she snarled. With that, she turned and ran back toward camp, leaving Ruben and all of the equipment lying in the dirt at the site.

***

How long Benton Quest knelt in his family room in the growing gloom, reliving the scene from the security camera, he didn't really know. But, slowly a thought began to grow in his mind. Maybe the video camera was wrong. Maybe something happened, and they weren't dead after all. He jumped up, ran out of the house, making his way to the cliff as quickly as he could. But when he reached the place where they had fallen, he found it deserted. There was no sign of them anywhere. He stood for a long time, staring at the rocks and the raging water below, trying to grasp the horrifying reality of the situation. Finally, he turned slowly and walked back to the house. Some part of his mind drove his body to the phone. He called the Rockport Police Department and reported the accident. They, in turn, notified the county sheriff's department, the coast guard, and the local search and rescue unit. Benton shut down the security, opened the main gate, and allowed them the run of the premises. Then, in silence, he sat down to wait.

For an indeterminate amount of time, he sat there staring blindly at the floor, until the sound of a voice he knew caused him to look up. Doug Sanderson knelt beside his chair. Benton's mind reeled as the sight of the man triggered a cascade of images in his mind. His son complaining about new graduation requirements for school . . . the discussion of Doug Sanderson's summer camp . . . Jonny, white-faced, sitting silently in a Cairo hospital . . . a raging torrent of water through a canyon in California . . . Brandon dripping water on the floor . . . the cliffs . . . a Paris boulevard . . . a court room . . . Jonny and Jessie exhausted and smelling of smoke . . . the cliffs . . . Alicia Simmons' face as she stood screaming at him . . . the cliffs . . . the . . . cliffs . . . . .

"Dr. Quest. Can you hear me? Benton!" Doug Sanderson placed a hand on Benton's shoulder and shook him. Benton returned his look, some of the shock slowly receding.

"What?"

Doug sighed in relief. "Benton, can you tell me what happened? We have to know."

"They fell off the cliff."

"Where?"

"Behind the house . . . north of the lighthouse . . ."

Doug rose, preparing to leave. For the first time, Benton became aware of the crowd of people milling throughout the house. Many of them gazed at him with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. Doug said gently, "Is there someone who can come stay with you? You shouldn't be alone right now."

Benton dropped his head into his hands. The pain and loss hit him like a freight train. He wanted his son. He wanted his wife. What had he done to deserve having everyone he cared about taken away from him like this? He had learned to live again after the loss of Rachel, because he had a young son that needed him. How could he possibly cope this time? "No," he whispered.

"Where is Race? Jessie? Hadji?"

"Gone."

"Gone where? Where are they?"

Benton was slow to answer. "Hadji is in Bangalore . . . and . . . Race and Jessie are in Colombia."

"Jesus," he heard Doug Sanderson murmur. He was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he said, "Sandy, get on the phone and try to reach Mrs. Evans. See if she'll come out here and stay with him while we search."

Benton's head snapped up sharply, and he exclaimed, "NO!"

"Please, Benton. You shouldn't be alone now. And I want to use all the manpower we have available to search for Jonny and Brandon. Let us call Mrs. Evans."

"No. Not yet. She has been with us for a long time and cared a great deal about Jonny. I don't want her to be subjected to this . . . not until we know something more definite."

"Then who can we call?"

Benton shook his head and rose slowly. "No one. I'll come with you."

Doug Sanderson looked at him with misgiving. "That's not necessary. And I don't think it's a good idea, Benton. It would be better if you waited here."

"No. I'll stay out of your way, Doug, but I want to be there with you. At least I'll feel like I'm doing something."

Finally, Doug gave in, and the group headed out to the cliffs. By this time it was dark, and the fierce wind of the early afternoon had brought in a storm. Snow swirled and gusted around the searchers as they set up searchlights and laid out the equipment for descending the cliff. Out on the water, Benton could hear the sounds of warning bells, as the coast guard cutters hovered as close to shore as possible, searching the rough seas. Benton knew that if Jonny and Brandon were out there, all hope was lost. Rough seas and frigid temperatures would have killed them long before he had arrived home, even supposing they had survived the fall.

Benton stood like a sentinel as the search and rescue team worked. Three man teams, spaced about 10 feet apart, descended the cliff wall, searching for any evidence of the fall. Meanwhile, two cutters and a half dozen boats from the Rockport harbor plied up and down the coast, searching diligently for any sign of the two lost boys. At one point, about an hour into the search, a call from one of the climbing teams brought everyone running to a spot along the cliff. One of the climbers had found evidence of fresh displacement of rocks. Broken rock fragments and scraped lichens indicated that something had disturbed that section of cliff very recently. But the location was about 30 feet south of where the security footage indicated the boys had fallen over, and when no other evidence could be found, the searchers abandoned the area and moved back northward along the cliff wall.

Benton found it nearly impossible to believe that his son was dead. Jonny had an uncanny way of getting himself out of dangerous situations. He had done it over and over. Just when Benton had given up, certain that there was no way he could have survived, the boy would pop up, grinning his lopsided smile and saying, "But, Dad...."

Please, he prayed silently, please let him do it again . . .

***

For almost two hours, Benton had stood at the edge of that cliff, frozen and alone, watching them search. Finally, Doug Sanderson and the Commander of the Coast Guard had forced him to return to the house. The Commander had tried to tell him in the gentlest possible way that they might never find Jonny and Brandon. Currents along this coast are tricky and unpredictable, he had explained. If the undertow had caught the bodies after the fall, they could easily have been washed out to sea, never be found. Benton had wanted to scream at the man . . . tell him that he knew the odds . . . that he didn't want to hear it. He wanted his son back, alive and well. But he hadn't done it, because he knew that what the man said was true. He had just nodded mutely and turned away.

And so now he waited, sitting alone in this huge house, for the inevitable. The time was rapidly approaching when they would come and say those dreaded words. They were sorry, but there was nothing more they could do . . . Jonny was gone.

As the hours passed, Benton had become more and more disconnected. Just as he had done when Rachel died, he blanketed himself in numbness, refusing to think or do anything. And, somewhere in that disconnected state, he realized it was time to notify the others. He tried Hadji first. But when he got through to the royal palace in Bangalore, he discovered that Hadji had already left for Maine. So he asked to talk with Neela. Initially, the guard had been reluctant to call her to the phone, but Benton had been insistent. He waited for some time.

Finally, he heard, "Hello."

"Neela? This is Benton Quest."

"Yes, Dr. Quest. I am extremely busy this morning. How may I serve you?" Her tone was distant and curt, and some part of Benton wondered why that was. Neela was normally the most pleasant of people.

"Do you know how to reach Hadji? It's imperative that I talk with him as soon as possible."

"No. He is currently en route to Maine. I would anticipate he will arrive at your home sometime tomorrow morning."

"It's vital that I reach him, Neela, as quickly as possible."

"I did not speak with him when he left, so I do not know if he was carrying a cellular phone. I am sure, however, that he has his laptop computer."

Benton was quiet for a time. Finally, he said heavily, "What I have to tell him can't be done via e-mail."

There was a perceptible change in tone . . . a softening . . . as she asked, "Has something happened?"

"Yes. There's been an accident. I . . . I really need to talk to Hadji."

"What has happened, Benton? Has Jonny or Jessie been hurt?" she asked insistently, sounding truly concerned now.

For a long moment, he didn't answer, unsure whether he could bring himself to say the words. Finally, he responded haltingly, "Jonny...Jonny died...early this afternoon."

A stark silence followed that statement. Finally, Neela said, "Oh, no! Benton, I am so sorry. I had no idea . . . Is there any way in which I can help?"

"No." Suddenly, his voice caught on a half-sob. He cleared his throat with difficulty, and repeated, "No, but thank you for asking. I just need to talk with Hadji. I know this will be reported in all the news services, and I don't want him finding out about it in that way."

"No, of course not. I will certainly ask, but I really do not believe we have any way to reach him. I know he was planning on going straight to Quest Compound without making any stops along the way. That should put him there late tomorrow morning. Benton, anything you need that I can do . . . anything at all . . . you must let me know. Please." Neela hesitated fractionally, then continued, "And when you see him, please tell my son how sorry I am. I know how close he and Jonny are...were."

"Yes. All right. I'll tell him, Neela."

"Take care, Benton. And again, I am very sorry."

After breaking the connection, he stared at the phone in his hand for a long time, dreading what he had to do next. Reluctantly, he began to dial. His stomach clenched and his head began to ache as he listened to the phone ring. Now he had to tell Race . . . and Jessie. How could he do this? After everything they had been through . . . how could he possibly tell her that Jonny was dead?

At that instant, the phone clicked and a voice said, "Hola . . ."

***

After the incident with Ruben, Jessie had gone straight to her tent, and stayed there in the dark for several hours. Initially, all she could do was sit, shaking violently, as reaction to the incident enveloped her. She knew Ruben was no saint, but how could he have done something like that? After a time, she calmed down, and slowly her mind began to function again. She thought about it for a long time, and, eventually, she came to realize that this incident marked the end. Something had to be done.

She stood, now, outside her tent, steeling herself to go talk with her mother. This was going to put Estella in a very awkward position. Ruben's family was very influential in Colombia, and Jessie suspected that they had had something to do with her mother receiving this grant. To alienate them would likely cause her mother a great deal of trouble. But if her father found out what Ruben had tried to do this afternoon, Ruben would be lucky to escape with all of his limbs intact. And it wouldn't matter that Jessie had successfully defended herself, either. No, the situation had to be dealt with before her father got wind of it. So she figured the best bet was to explain the whole mess to her mother and ask to be sent back to Maine. That would put her out of Ruben's way, and give her the opportunity to try to resolve the problems with Jonny.

As she crossed the campsite, headed for her mother's tent, she saw Ruben sitting at the table waiting for their evening strategy meeting. When he saw her, he jumped up and moved to intercept her. He was lacking his usual grace, she noticed with satisfaction.

"Jessie! Jessie, wait, please."

Against her better judgment, she stopped, allowing him to catch up to her. She noticed he kept a good five feet between them. "What do you want?" she asked coldly.

"Jessie, I'm sorry! You have to believe me. I never meant for that to happen. I just lost my head. It won't happen again; I swear it! If you want me to stay away from you, I will do that. Anything you want. Please!"

Jessie stared at Ruben, a cold, hard expression on her face. "Ruben, you've left me very little choice on how to handle this situation. I can't trust you any longer. And as long as my mother knows nothing about this, she will automatically assume that we can work together without a problem, and will continue to do what she did today. I have no choice but to tell her what happened and let her decide what to do."

"No! It is not necessary. It will never happen again. I promise you, Jessie. I will never touch you . . . not unless you ask me to. You have my word . . . on my family's honor." In the distance, Jessie saw her mother and father step out of their tent and move toward the table. She didn't dare say anything with her father around.

She stared at Ruben for a minute, thinking, and then reluctantly said, "All right. I won't say anything to Mom right now. Just stay very, very far away from me." Ruben nodded and started to turn away. But she stopped him. "Ruben, I want you to understand something very clearly." He turned back and looked at her quizzically. "If you hassle me in any way . . . any way at all . . . I won't bother my mother with it. After I clean up the floor with you, I will tell my father. Do you understand what that means?" She saw a shadow of fear enter Ruben's eyes. She nodded. "Yes, I think we understand each other. Just stay away from me, Ruben. Stay away and leave me alone." With that, she stepped around him and moved to join her parents.

As she sat down, she could see both of them looking at her closely. Estella said hesitantly, "Jessie, are you all right?"

Jessie took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Yes, Mother, I'm fine. Just tired. It's been a long day."

"I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier. I'm just a little jumpy and irritable these days."

Jessie shrugged. "It's okay." Ruben settled down across the table from her.

There was a brief, awkward silence and then Ruben addressed Estella. "We finished the survey. The south end of the site is gridded and ready for excavation."

Race and Estella looked from one to the other, sensing something amiss. But before they could ask any questions, three other members of the excavation team joined them. Desultory conversation floated around the table as they waited for the last of their group to arrive.

During a lull in the conversation, Nathan grinned at Jessie and said, "How's that boyfriend of yours?"

Jessie looked at him and shrugged. "Okay, I guess. His last note said something about needing to start studying for finals. He was grumbling about it."

Race snorted, "Jonny studying? This early? Not a chance! The day before the exam, maybe . . ."

Jessie grinned reluctantly. "Yeah. I know. But he always does well."

"That's true," Race acknowledged, laughing. "He is an incredibly quick learner. It's almost frightening to consider what he could do if he really applied himself to it."

Nathan joined in the laughter. "Yeah, he sounds like that."

Jessie caught Ruben making a frantic gesture at Nathan out of the corner of her eye as she replied, "I didn't realize you'd ever met Jonny, Nathan."

"Oh, I haven't. Met him, I mean. I just introduced myself today when he called."

There was a sudden, dead silence at the table. Finally, Jessie managed to gasp, "When . . . he . . . what?!?"

Nathan looked at her in confusion. "When he called. This morning. He said he would wait until I could get you to the phone. Didn't you get the message?"

"No," she whispered.

Nathan looked at Ruben. "You said you knew where she was and would get her . . . tell her he was waiting to talk to her."

Ruben looked around the table, defensively. "I tried to find her. But she wasn't where I thought she was. And when I went back to the phone to let him know that it would take longer to find her than we expected, he was gone. He'd hung up."

Jessie rose slowly and turned to face Ruben Calderone. Blood thundered in her ears, as she leaned across the table, staring at him. Images flashed across her mind as the full impact of what she had seen that morning came home to her. "LIAR!!!!" she screamed at him in fury. "YOU LYING SON OF A BITCH, I SAW YOU!!!" The other members of the excavation team stared at her in astonishment, stunned by the sudden explosion. Race rose hastily, and came around to lay his hands on her shoulders in an effort to calm her, but Jessie ignored him. "I watched you intercept Nathan and send him off to the work site. You turned around and went straight back to the phone. You never went looking for me! You didn't even try . . ."

"Ruben, is this true?" Estella's voice was icy.

Ruben gazed at Jessie calculatingly. She was shaking in fury. Looking up suddenly, he addressed himself directly to Race. "You do not understand. He has been tormenting her for days . . . deliberately making her miserable. I do not know how many times I have found her crying over something he has said or done. I was only trying to protect her."

Race shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't believe it. I know Jonny Quest . . . I've know him since he was a child. He's not capable of doing something like that."

"Yes, but his new girlfriend certainly is! She is capable of that and more. She is goading him into it."

"You don't know that!" Jessie whispered, the fury suddenly draining away. "You can't. He wouldn't have told you something like that." She sank slowly into her seat, face white and eyes haunted.

"Girlfriend? What girlfriend?" Estella questioned sharply.

Jessie sat with her head bowed, crying silently. Finally Ruben answered, "Francesca something. I don't remember her last name."

"No."

The word was spoken calmly and with absolute finality. Everyone but Jessie turned to stare at Race Bannon. He reached down with infinite gentleness, caught her chin with his hand, and tipped his daughter's head up so she had to look him in the eyes. He shook his head slightly and said again, "No." He sighed at the look in her eyes. Addressing the tall, blonde intern close to him, he said quietly, "Nathan, would you take everyone else over to your tent and review the day's excavation results. If you'll summarize it for Estella and bring it by later, she'll put together a plan of action for tomorrow." Nathan nodded and got up. Everyone but Ruben rose to follow. Race looked at the young man across the table and said coldly, "I said everyone. That means you, too, Calderone."

Ruben looked over at Estella rebelliously. Estella's eyes flamed and she snapped, "Get out." He stared at her in anger for a long moment, then flung himself to his feet and stalked after the others.

Race sat down on the bench and put his arm around his daughter. Estella came around and sat down on her other side. She stroked Jessie's hair gently for a moment, then said softly, "Sweetheart, Jonny would never associate with Francesca Hamilton. You know that."

"But he is. I know he is."

"How do you know?" Race asked reasonably.

"Brandon told me."

"Brandon?" Estella asked in confusion.

"Brandon Simmons," Race supplied. "The boy that Jonny befriended last summer. Jessie was telling me that Benton has temporary custody of him, and he's living at the Compound."

"He's seen them at school together," Jessie said miserably.

Race shook his head again. "There has to be some other explanation. Jonny is not seeing that girl of his own free will. I won't believe it."

"Neither will I." Estella agreed. "Not after everything that happened in Cairo."

"Yeah . . . Cairo," Jessie said, a catch in her voice. She was silent for a minute. "I wouldn't have had a chance with Jonny at all if he'd found a way to get her out of Egypt last year."

Jessie's parents gazed at each other in consternation. Finally, Estella gasped, "What did you say?"

Jessie stood up out of her parents' grasp and strode about four steps from them. Then she turned and said bitterly, "Do you think I don't know that he tried to get her out of Cairo? Tried to circumvent the Egyptian authorities so she wouldn't get locked up?"

Both of them sat staring at her, dumbfounded. It was her father who eventually broke the silence. "Who told you this?"

"No one had to tell me. It was so obvious. The way no one would ever talk about it. The way you all protected Jonny. The way everyone made it so clear that he had been in trouble . . . and the way everyone refused to tell me what went on there. Oh, yeah, it didn't take me long to figure it out."

Estella propped an elbow on the table and rested her head in her hand, covering her eyes. Race reached up and ran an agitated hand through his hair. Finally, he looked at his daughter, and said quietly, "Come here and sit down, Jessica. I think it's time you know the truth about Cairo."

Jessie looked from her father to her mother with a growing feeling of uncertainty. Slowly, she came over and sat down between them again. Race took her hand and said slowly, "Yes, Ponchita, Jonny was in trouble in Cairo . . . a great deal of trouble. And we did maneuver to keep him away from the Egyptian authorities. But it's not what you think." He took a deep breath and flashed a look at Estella. Then he looked back at Jessie and continued, "He didn't try to get Francesca out of Cairo. He tried to kill her."

Jessie looked at her father, uncomprehending. "KILL her? Jonny wouldn't do that. He could never kill anyone. At least, not intentionally."

Estella softly laid a hand on Jessie's arm. "You have to understand, sweetheart. He had sat in a cold, sterile ICU ward for days, watching you slip away. He held himself totally to blame. He had become involved with Francesca, and, as a result, you had been humiliated, attacked, injured . . . And the last time, they took you from him, leaving him barely hurt and you on the brink of death." Estella shook her head, remembering those days as though reliving a nightmare. "You can't imagine what he was like. He wouldn't eat or drink anything. He wasn't sleeping. He wouldn't talk. He just sat there at that observation window . . . waiting. None of us could reach him. Not even Hadji."

Race released her hand and leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees and running his hands through his hair again. "I stood there, day after day, and watched him slipping away, just like you were doing. We were all so helpless . . . And then that night . . ." His voice broke and he stopped, as though unable to go on. Estella reached out and caught his wrist, squeezing until the skin under her fingers turned white. For a long minute, he remained immobile. Then he straightened slowly, catching Estella's hand in his. He looked his daughter straight in the eyes and said, "You died, Jessie. There was nothing the doctors could do."

Jessie looked at her parents, numbly. She had never imagined anything like this. Finally, she mumbled, "But . . . but how . . . I . . ."

"Hadji," Estella explained gently. "I don't even begin to understand what he did, but somehow he brought you back."

Jessie looked from one to the other in disbelief. "I don't understand . . ."

"You were crossing the river . . . had almost reached the other side," her father replied.

Estella watched in confusion as a slow look of understanding dawned on her daughter's face.

"I was in Bardo?" she whispered.

"Yes," her father replied. "It was only your concern for Jonny that made you come back."

Jessie rose again and walked a few paces, only to stop and stare out into the thick blackness that surrounded the camp. "And Jonny?" she asked in a choked voice.

Estella sighed. "First you died . . . then you came back. There were doctors and nurses everywhere. It was chaos. When some semblance of order returned, he was gone."

"He thought you were dead," Race explained. "He didn't know Hadji had brought you back. At that point, he was so exhausted and full of grief and rage, I don't think he had any idea what he was doing. But, what he DID, was go after Francesca and her cohorts with a vengeance. It was only by the grace of God that we managed to stop him. But it was close . . . real close. We didn't know for certain how the Egyptian authorities would have taken it, so we kept our mouths shut. David Hamilton was out cold, Keller was dead, the natives were mumbling about the Pharaoh's curse, and no one was going to believe Francesca. We bundled Jonny back to the hospital and sat on him. Once we proved to him you were alive, he wanted nothing more than to get you home safely. He hardly left your side at all. A couple of times he literally passed out in the chair where he was sitting."

Things were quiet around the table for several minutes. Finally, Race sighed again. "Jessica, I learned a great deal about Jonny Quest during those days in Cairo. But, what I saw more clearly than anything else, is how much he is like his father. I've known Benton for a long time. No one knows better than I do that he has never fully recovered from losing Rachel . . . and he never will. When she died, some part of him wanted to go with her; but he stayed because he had a young son that needed him. And, in time, Jonny gave him back that will to live. Somewhere along the line, I don't know how or when, Jonny developed the same depth of feeling for you. I know there are people who would say that the two of you are too young to be able to commit in that fashion, but they would be wrong. Feelings run deep in the Quest family, and his age doesn't change the way Jonny feels. I don't think anything ever will. So, I don't know what's going on at home, Jess, but one thing is certain . . . he is not willingly seeing Francesca Hamilton again. Of that, I am absolutely certain."

Somewhere in the distance, a phone rang. After the second ring, it stopped. Jessie stood, staring at the ground. When she finally looked up again, both her parents were shocked by the devastation in her face. "I've spent the last two days trying to find some way to lay my hands on a phone. I've had the feeling that I screwed up somehow, and that I needed to call and talk to him. I got angry when Brandon told me about Francesca. We were on IRC . . . I called him a bastard . . . I said I hated him." Suddenly, she began to sob. "Oh, God, Daddy, what have I done???"

Suddenly, from out of the darkness, a voice said, "Mr. Bannon . . ." Jessie whirled to see Nathan Hardesty. Behind him were all the others. Nathan stepped forward hesitantly, his face grave. "Mr. Bannon, it's for you. It's Dr. Quest . . ." He held out the phone.

Race rose and took three quick strides to accept it from the young man. "Benton?" As he listened, his face drained of color. He moved unsteadily back to the table and sank down on the bench. "When? Are you certain?" Jessie and Estella watched him with growing fear, as they listened to the one-sided conversation. Race seemed to age right before their eyes. "Have they found them? . . . Damn! . . . Where did it happen? " He closed his eyes, as though in pain. "Damn," he whispered again. "All right. We'll leave right away, and get there as soon as we can. Who's there with you? . . . What about Hadji? . . . Good. We'll be there by no later than noon tomorrow. . . . All right." He broke the connection and slowly looked up at Jessie and Estella.

"What's happened?" Estella asked, fear in her voice.

"It's Brandon and Jonny."

"What?" she asked again.

"The details are sketchy, but it looks like Brandon tried to commit suicide early this afternoon."

"Oh, God. How?" Estella questioned. Jessie stood, frozen and silent.

"The high cliff above the boathouse."

"What else?" Jessie's voice was harsh and unnatural in the following silence.

Her father looked at her and then said, gently, "Jonny tried to stop him . . . they both went over. They're still searching for the bodies. I'm sorry, Jess..."

Suddenly, Jessie exploded. Her shrill screams of denial echoed through the steamy jungle night as she snatched anything within reach and flung it to the far corners of the campsite.

"Whoa . . . look at that!" DeForrest Blain muttered as he snatched up his camera. The shutterbug had been annoying the entire camp with it from the moment he arrived. When Jessie spotted him, her cooling fury erupted again. Shrieking and crying, she reached out and grabbed for the camera, pulling Blain off balance. He staggered, and as he lost his grip, Jessie yanked the offending item out of his grasp and smashed it over and over on the table. Blain howled as pieces of his beloved camera flew in every direction. Nathan shoved him down onto the bench as Race grabbed Jessie into a ferocious hug. She continued to struggle fiercely until exhaustion and grief finally claimed her. Sadly, Race turned to Estella and said, "Pack your things. We're leaving as soon as we can."

***

Benton leaned forward and gently laid the phone down on the table. Race would be home tomorrow. And Hadji. He clung to that thought, a lifeline in a sea of chaos and pain. His family would be here and things would be better. But would they . . . ever again? He rested his head against the back of the large, overstuffed chair in the family room. The reality of the situation was slowly beginning to set in. Jonny was dead. He had to be. He couldn't have survived the fall from that cliff.

It was almost 9:00 p.m. The search teams were slowly beginning to disperse. He knew the water rescue teams had given up about two hours before . . . the weather simply wouldn't allow them to continue. And he could tell by the amount of activity in and out of the house that the climbing teams were also packing up. The snow was getting worse, and the wind continued unabated. Even these dedicated people had reached their limit. There was simply nothing left out there to find. He wondered, suddenly, how often members of his family had been a part of teams like this . . . volunteering for the hazardous job of searching rocky cliffs and choppy seas in the dark, hoping to bring good news, or at least peace of mind, to a grieving family who couldn't understand why this had to happen to them. More often than he could count. He never thought he would live to see the day when he would be on the other end . . . be the one waiting for word.

Some time later, some part of his mind registered a knock on the door and a new voice. But he paid very little attention. He no longer cared who came and went. He could hear the murmur of voices and then the sound of footsteps entering the room. He sensed someone standing close to him and then felt a touch on his hand. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see Mrs. Evans standing next to his chair. Her eyes were filled with tears and she looked at him with sympathy.

Hoarsely, he said to her, "You didn't need to come."

"Of course I did," she replied brusquely. "Someone needs to be in his house with you, what with all the others being gone. I won't have you being alone. Now, have you eaten?"

"No," he whispered. "But . . ."

"No 'buts'. First you have to eat, and then you have to rest. Have you called the others?"

"Yes."

"And when will they be here?"

"Tomorrow."

"All right then. I'll fix you something to eat. You don't need to move. I'll bring it here when it's ready. You just rest easy."

Benton closed his eyes again, listening to her footsteps as she turned to go. But, just before she left the room, he said, "Mrs. Evans..." He could hear her pause and turn. "Thank you." She made some soft, indefinable noise, and, a few seconds later, Benton could hear her low voice talking to someone in the hall. Shortly after, he heard footsteps again; but this time they weren't ones he recognized. Strangers, again. Suddenly, he wished desperately that everyone would just go away and leave him alone. Benton heard a soft 'clink' near his elbow and then the sound of someone settling into the chair nearby.

"Drink that, Dr. Quest. I think you need it."

Benton opened his eyes. Judge Henson sat a few feet away. In his hand, he held a snifter with a generous portion of what looked to be brandy. A similar glass sat at Benton's elbow.

"Go on," Henson encouraged him.

Slowly, Benton reached out, picked up the glass, and took a swallow of the aromatic, golden liquid. It slid down his throat smoothly, and he could feel its warmth spread through him as it hit his empty stomach. He sat for a long moment, taking an obscure comfort in the sensation. Finally, staring into the glass cradled in his lap, he said, "They're gone."

"I know."

"I never should have left them. I sensed something was wrong . . ."

"Your son was old enough to be left with the boy, and he had a better rapport with Brandon than any of us," Henson said, gently. "This isn't your fault. Dr. Quest, I . . ."

"Benton," he interrupted. Wearily, he waved the glass in his hand in a vague gesture. "Call me Benton. I . . . I've had too many people around today, calling me that . . . too many strangers." He sighed deeply. "Just call me Benton."

"All right. Benton, then. I know this is a very bad time for you, and I really am sorry, but it's important that I know as much as possible about what went on here today."

Benton raised the glass abruptly, and took a deep swallow. "My son and the boy left in my care died," he said bitterly.

Henson sighed. "I know. But what I don't know, is why. Benton, I talked to both of those boys yesterday. Brandon was strung pretty tight, it's true. But your son was in control of the situation. I'm certain of it. Do you have any idea what caused this to happen? Was it an accident?"

Benton's answer was a long time coming. Finally, he said, "I think the fall was an accident. Brandon was out there on that cliff with suicide in mind. That's pretty obvious. But I think Jonny had talked him out of it. Unfortunately, Brandon was too close to the edge, and when the ground gave way suddenly, it tossed him over. Jonny was lost trying to pull him back."

The judge leaned forward, staring intently at the other man. "You sound like you were there."

"No." Wearily, Benton addressed the empty air. "IRIS, replay the security video footage from the cliff that was recorded this afternoon. Route it to the wall monitor in the family room."

"WORKING," came the soft, feminine voice. Donald Henson looked around in surprise, searching for the source, as the large monitor on the wall across the room flickered to life. "VIDEO ENHANCEMENT FOR LARGE SCREEN PROJECTION IN PROCESS . . . PROCESS COMPLETE . . . DISPLAYING NOW." His attention snapped to the video monitor as the tape of the scene on the cliffside played itself out again. As the two boys slid over the edge, Henson shot a stealthy glance at Benton Quest. He sat, leaning back in the chair with his eyes closed again, his hands lying limply in his lap. It seemed as though the man was aging by the minute.

Donald Henson scrubbed his face with his hand in frustration. "I just don't understand it. What caused this? I'm usually a good judge of people, particularly children. And I would have staked my career that Brandon Simmons was not suicidal yesterday."

"Brandon was good at hiding his feelings," Benton replied. "At least, from everyone but Jonny. You were right . . .somehow, my son had gotten behind the boy's defenses. He seemed to be able to tell when Brandon was distressed."

"So your son had an idea that Brandon might be suicidal?"

Benton thought about that for a long time. As he did so, a slow frown developed on his face. "Noooo . . . no, I don't think he did." Suddenly, he looked at the judge with the first evidence of real awareness he had shown since Henson arrived.

"What? What is it?"

Benton took another swallow of his drink, thinking hard. "Something Jonny said this morning," he said, searching his memory. "I'd been concerned because Brandon was being so quiet."

"Yes, and . . ." Henson encouraged him, softly.

"Jonny had told me not to worry . . . that Brandon was just edgy about court tomorrow. He sounded so certain. Said they were going to go into Camden to a movie."

"But they never made it," Henson said, thoughtfully. "Do you have any idea what time the accident occurred?"

"IRIS, what time did the incident on the cliff occur?"

"12:17 P.M., EST," the computer replied.

"And I left here at just after 11:15."

Henson thought about that. "So something happened during that hour that pushed Brandon to the brink of suicide. But what?"

Benton stared at the other man, his brain finally beginning to function again. "Something happened here today . . . something before the two boys fell." Henson looked at him, uncomprehending. Benton went on, "When I got home this afternoon, I discovered the Compound on a complete security and self-defense lockdown. No one could enter without the appropriate bypass codes." Benton distractedly ran a hand through his hair. "With everything else, I had forgotten that."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that something happened to scare my son enough to invoke the automatic security defenses. And my guess is that something . . . or someone . . . got inside before he realized they were a threat. He must have instituted the security protocols to defend himself and Brandon." Benton raised his head and said sharply, "IRIS, who initiated the security level three lockdown of the Compound today?"

"JONATHAN QUEST."

"For what reason?"

"AN UNWANTED INTRUDER GAINED ACCESS TO THE HOUSE. JONATHAN QUEST DEEMED THIS INDIVIDUAL UNDESIRABLE WHEN HE THREATENED BRANDON SIMMONS AND REFUSED TO LEAVE THE PREMISES AFTER BEING ORDERED TO DO SO."

"Did you have to remove the individual?"

There was a short pause before IRIS responded, "NOT THE FIRST TIME."

"The first time?" Benton questioned the computer sharply. "You mean the individual returned later?"

"YES. HE RETURNED WITH FOUR OTHER PEOPLE. THEY WERE STOPPED AND DENIED ACCESS AT THE GATE."

"Display the altercation with this individual that occurred in the house."

"WORKING." Again the monitor came to life. This time it replayed the incident with Sgt. Cason from earlier that day.

Judge Henson suddenly sat forward. "What the HELL??? I didn't send anyone here to pick up that boy!" He stared hard at the video as it played out. "Who is that man? I know all of the Knox County Sheriff Department's men . . . and that person is not one of them. What the hell is going on here?"

Benton stared at the video footage as well. "IRIS, display the second encounter with this individual."

Abruptly, the scene on the monitor changed. This footage was shot from inside the Compound looking out over the security fence. A large, white Ford pulled up to the gate and "Sgt. Cason" stepped out of the car. He was still dressed in a Sheriff's Department uniform. He was followed by three men dressed in blue jeans and jackets. Two of them were carrying baseball bats. Cason strode up to the control panel and demanded access to the Compound; restating his order that Brandon Simmons was to be turned over. IRIS replied that the Compound was on lockdown and no unauthorized personnel were allowed admittance. Cason turned to the two men with bats and, gesturing at the equipment, said, "Take it out."

"Wait." Both Benton and the judge watched in shocked disbelief as Alicia Simmons stepped from the car, and said, "Brandon Simmons is my son, and I have a court order here that returns him to my custody. I want him . . . NOW."