Chapter Thirty-five


It was shortly after 9:00 p.m. when IRIS warned that there was a car approaching the main Compound gate. Estella was resting on the sofa in the family room, while she, Race and Barbara talked idly, searching for any topic of conversation other than that of Benton's illness or the lack of response from the kids. Benton was still out in the lab working, much to Barbara's discontent.

"Now who could that be at this hour?" Estella questioned

"Jon or Hadji?" Barbara suggested hopefully.

Race shook his head. "Unlikely. They wouldn't have had time to make the drive from Boston, and if they flew they would have used the airfield here, not Knox County Regional. Find out who it is, IRIS."

The three of them waited uneasily until IRIS announced the arrival of their visitors. "You know them," Race said to Barbara's wordless exclamation of surprise.

"Yes. Let them in, IRIS. Ask them to come straight up the drive to the main house immediately."

"Who . . ." Estella began, but Barbara shook her head as she rose and headed to the front door.

"I'll introduce them when they arrive."

A few moments later, car doors slammed and Race and Estella could hear Barbara's indistinct greeting from the entryway. Then she led two men into the family room. The first was middle aged, tall and lanky, with sandy hair, faded blue eyes and a bushy mustache. The other man looked to be quite a bit younger and was much shorter, with swarthy skin, dark hair and eyes, and a presence that could be felt the instant he entered the room.

"Race, Estella . . . I'd like for you to meet Garrett Blackman and Stan Knight. Gentlemen, Race Bannon and his wife Estella Velasquez-Bannon."

"Jessica's parents," Garrett acknowledged in a surprisingly deep voice, stepping forward and offering Race a firm handshake as he rose to greet the visitors.

"Yes," Race acknowledged. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage . . ."

"Mr. Blackman is the president and CEO of Blackman Telecommunications, Race," Barbara explained. "He's also Jon's employer . . . and Mr. Knight is his immediate supervisor."

"I . . . see," Race said carefully.

"That's all right, Mrs. Bannon," Stan said suddenly, stepping forward. "There's no need for you to get up."

Both Race and Barbara turned to see Estella struggling to get to her feet. With mutual sounds of protest, the two of them converged on the sofa.

"Stop, Stel!"

"Estella, no!"

"Please, Mrs. Bannon," Garrett said smoothly, striding up and offering her a hand. "It's not necessary." He searched her face, and then smiled at her. "There's no doubt that Jessica is your daughter. She looks so much like you."

Estella smiled back at him, easing herself down against the cushions once more. Then she winced and rubbed her belly gingerly as the child she carried kicked sharply.

Garrett's smile widened into a grin. "Restless, is it?"

"You have no idea! I get the feeling she's going to be just like her older sister."

"Or he is," Race reminded her. He stared hard at the two men as he sat down beside Estella and massaged her stomach gently. "But you didn't come all the way from Boston to give us compliments on our daughter." He waved the two men to seats. "What has happened to Jonny?"

"We don't know for certain that anything has happened to him," Garrett replied, " . . . or to Jessica, Jon's brother, or his fiancée. What we do know is that Jon and Jessica seem to have disappeared."

"You mean just vanished?" Estella asked with concern.

"Not precisely," Stan replied. "He came to me last Thursday to say that he had family problems and was needing some time off. I told him to take whatever time he needed. God knows, he's earned it. They left the office and that was the last time we've seen or heard from them."

"They?" Race questioned sharply. "Who's 'they'?"

"All four of them . . . Jon, Jessica, Hadji and Kefira. And there's something else you had better know," Garrett added quietly. "Kefira was hurt. Both she and Hadji had obviously been attacked. Hadji didn't appear to be more than shaken, but Kefira had been shot."

"Shot!" Barbara exclaimed, as Race and Estella murmured in distress. "How badly?"

"Not seriously," Garrett reassured them quickly. "A graze along her hairline. She was a bit dazed and pretty well exhausted, but Dr. Solomon assured all of them that she would be fine with a bit of rest."

"When I get my hands on those four, I'm gonna shoot all of them myself!" Race muttered darkly. "What the hell were they thinking, not telling us about this? So what happened?"

Garrett shook his head ruefully. "As you just pointed out, none of them tend to be very forthcoming. Jon is one of the most close-mouthed individuals I think I've ever met. He simply doesn't talk about personal things, so none of us know much for certain. We've got some speculations, which I don't think are too far off base, but we don't know for sure."

"So speculate," Race commanded.

Garrett sighed. "Well, let's start with what we do know for a fact. Hadji and Kefira arrived at the office looking for Jon first thing on Thursday morning. They both looked seriously worse for wear . . . dirty, bruised, pushed to the point of exhaustion . . . there was no doubt that they'd been in a fight and were running from trouble. It was also obvious that Jon wasn't expecting them. Unfortunately, he shunted both of them off into a conference room, so none of us heard what was going on. They'd barely sequestered themselves when Jessica arrived. Jon wasn't expecting her, either. By that time, they were drawing too much attention and I decided they needed more privacy than a glass-walled conference room afforded them. I managed to get them into the penthouse and brought a doctor in to take care of Kefira. They stayed at the office for about two hours, and then Jon came to tell Stan that they had to leave because of a family situation."

"And you don't know any more than that?" Race asked in frustration.

"Just a few other isolated pieces of information," Garrett replied. "First, Jessica wasn't expecting Hadji and Kefira to be there, either. Something else brought her to the office that morning. Something that had her seriously upset before she ever walked in the door. But when she spotted them, she seemed to know immediately who was behind the attack. She said . . . and I quote . . . 'that goddamned bastard'. The other interesting thing occurred after Dr. Solomon had treated Kefira. Solomon was telling me that he needed to report a gunshot wound to the authorities. Jon specifically requested that he not do so, confirming that the attack was politically motivated and saying that the people who assaulted them would be watching for gunshot victims and were sure to try again."

Race looked thoughtful. "And all four kids seemed to know who was responsible."

"Yes," Garrett agreed. "Okay, so that's what I know. As for speculation . . ." he took a deep breath, looking troubled. "I think they headed for Bangalore."

Race uttered a sharp curse and rose to begin pacing restlessly. In a hard voice, he commanded, "IRIS, do a search of all airline records from last Thursday and see if you can locate reservations for any of the family members. If nothing is found, search on Friday and Saturday. I want to know if any of those kids left the country in the last several days."

"ACKNOWLEDGED." The response to Race's orders caused Stan to look around in surprise, but Garrett didn't even blink.

"What makes you think Bangalore?" Race demanded.

"If my reading of those four is correct, only the strongest of threats to a close family member would cause them to ignore prior commitments. Three of them are right in the middle of the school term, and Jon is assigned to several important projects at work for which he knows his presence is crucial. Furthermore, I think this is what brought Jessica to the office on Thursday morning." He tossed something onto the nearby end table and the others saw it was the article about Hadji's engagement from the Thursday morning paper. "I found that lying on the floor in my living room after the four of them left. I take it this announcement is significant."

"Yes," Race agreed grimly. "It has serious . . ."

"SEARCH COMPLETE. RECORDS INDICATE THAT JONATHAN QUEST AND HADJI SINGH HAD AIRLINE RESERVATIONS FOR LONDON WITH A DIRECT CONNECTING FLIGHT TO BANGALORE WHICH LEFT FROM LOGAN INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT LAST THURSDAY NIGHT AT MIDNIGHT."

"Did they make that flight?"

"AIRLINE RECORDS INDICATE THE THAT TICKETS WERE USED, HOWEVER THE TICKETS FOR THE CONNECTING FLIGHT TO BANGALORE WERE NOT."

"Shit!" Race swore. "What about Jessie and Kefira?"

"THERE IS NO RECORD OF COMMERICAL AIRLINE RESERVATIONS FOR EITHER JESSICA BANNON OR KEFIRA SUBRAMANIAN AT ANY TIME DURING THE PRECEEDING FIVE DAYS." IRIS seemed to hesitate fractionally, then continued. "IT SHOULD BE NOTED THAT A FLIGHT SCHEDULED TO DEPART FOR BANGALORE FROM EGYPT TWO DAYS LATER WAS ATTACKED BY TERRORISTS WHILE STILL ON THE TARMAC."

"What's the significance of that, IRIS?" Estella questioned.

"TWO OF THE PASSENGERS SCHEDULED TO DEPART ON THAT FLIGHT WERE CARRYING PASSPORTS THAT ARE COMMON ALIASES USED BY MEMBERS OF THE QUEST FAMILY."

"Details!" Race snapped.

"VERY FEW APPEAR TO BE AVAILABLE. POLICE AGENCIES ARE NOT RELEASING ANY INFORMATION CONCERNING THE INCIDENT, HOWEVER, PASSENGER REPORTS STATE THAT THE ATTACKERS STRUCK SHORTLY BEFORE THE PLANE WAS SCHEDULED FOR DEPARTURE AND THAT THE ATTACKERS APPEARED TO BE LOOKING FOR SOMETHING OR SOMEONE SPECIFIC. ALL REPORTS SEEM TO AGREE THAT WHATEVER THEY WERE SEARCHING FOR THEY DID NOT FIND."

"They were forewarned," Barbara commented softly.

"Or their internal trouble radar kicked in," Race replied absently, thinking hard. "IRIS, I want you to call Hadji's number at school. It should have voicemail, but it's not picking up. I'm guessing the memory or tape or whatever he uses is full. I want those messages."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. WORKING."

"Another thing, IRIS," Estella interrupted. "Check FAA flight plans for the Quest jets in both New York and Boston. I want to know if either of those planes have taken off in the last five days." She glanced over at her husband. "You know as well as I do that those two women would never let Jonny and Hadji walk into something like that alone. And Jessie's not above commandeering equipment when she needs it."

"RECORDS INDICATE THAT JESSICA BANNON LEFT FROM LA GUARDIA AIRPORT ON SUNDAY EVENING USING THE QUEST LEAR JET."

"Destination?" There was a pregnant pause before IRIS replied, "QUEST COMPOUND, ROCKPORT, MAINE."

"I take it she never arrived," Garrett said, looking from one of them to the other.

"No," Race replied tersely. "IRIS, allowing for departure and travel time, scan all international arrival records for a plane of similar make and model. Don't limit it to a plane bearing Quest markings or identification. And start with airports that would be logical jump-off locations for a trip to Bangalore. I want to know where she went."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. WORKING."

"You think that all four of them have gone to Bangalore," Garrett observed, watching Race closely.

Race shrugged irritably. "I think that the business of announcing Hadji's betrothal forced his hand, and he made the decision to return to Bangalore to try to smooth things over. And considering the recent political climate over there, I don't think there's any way that Jonny would have let him go alone."

"What about Jessie and Kefira?" Barbara asked him. "Surely they would have gone with them."

Race shook his head. "This is just a guess, but I'll bet that because Kefira was hurt, the boys somehow managed to convince her to stay behind in relative safety to rest. And Jonny probably put pressure on Jessie to stay with her, arguing that Jessie needed to ensure her safety. But then Jonny and Hadji disappeared. Those kids have been drilled in emergency protocols since the day I walked into the Quests' life. In a situation like this, the old check-in schedule routine would have gone into place. Every twelve hours without fail, one of them should have been checking in with Jessie or Kefira. I'd say that they began missing the check-in schedule and Jessie and Kefira finally went after them."

"SEARCH COMPLETE," IRIS broke in. "A PLANE MATCHING THE BUILD SPECIFICATIONS OF THE QUEST LEAR JET LANDED IN MUMBAI AT APPROXIMATELY 9:00 P.M. LOCAL TIME MONDAY. THE PLANE BORE FRENCH REGISTERY AND OWNERSHIP IS LISTED AS BELONGING TO ANTON AND MONICA LEVECK."

"What did the flight plan indicate as the reason for the trip?"

"RECREATION. IT SHOULD ALSO BE NOTED THAT ALLOWING FOR JESSICA BANNON AND KEFIRA SUBRAMANIAN ON BOARD, A CALCULATION OF FLYING TIME, PREVAILING WIND CURRENTS, AND OVERALL WEATHER CONDITIONS AT THE TIME OF THE FLIGHT INDICATES THAT THE PLANE WAS MOST LIKELY CARRYING CARGO OR MULTIPLE ADDITIONAL PASSENGERS."

"So she and Kefira flew to Mumbai, and she had cargo with her," Race said slowly.

"What kind of cargo would she have taken with her, Race?" Estella asked. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It might," he replied, almost to himself. "If she knew there was trouble, it might make a lot of sense."

"RETRIEVAL OF MESSAGES FROM THE VOICE MAIL OF HADJI SINGH COMPLETE. A TOTAL OF 27 MESSAGES WERE RETRIEVED."

"Replay those messages dating from last Wednesday."

"WORKING. THERE ARE THREE MESSAGES DATING FROM LAST WEDNESDAY. TIME STAMPS INDICATED THEY WERE ALL RECEIVED IN THE MID-AFTERNOON. REPLAYING NOW."


*** BEEP ***


Hey, Hadji. It's Margie from your Calculus class. Does your offer still stand for some tutoring? I think I'm lost. If you're still willing, we'll discuss it more in class tonight. Later!


*** BEEP ***


Namastay, beloved. I received your message about dinner this evening. I will meet you downstairs at 6:00 p.m.


*** BEEP ***


Greetings, Excellency. This is Ambassador Tilak of the Indian Embassy. Your mother has asked that I provide an escort to Ms. Subramanian for her trip back to the Palace at Bangalore. I would pick her up at her own residence, however I do not have that location. Therefore, I will be at your apartment at 3:30 p.m. this afternoon. If you can arrange to have Ms. Subramanian there and prepared to leave I would appreciate it.


"Oh, I don't like the sound of that," Barbara said.

"Hadji wouldn't have liked it, either," Estella replied. "You can bet on it."

"Let's hear the messages from Thursday, IRIS," Race instructed.

"THERE ARE ELEVEN MESSAGES FROM THURSDAY."


*** BEEP ***


*** BEEP ***


Excellency, this is Vijay Patel. Events have occurred that I MUST discuss with you immediately. I will remain at this number for as long as I can . . . 91-022-555-8946 . . . If I must leave before you can call, I will leave word with someone here on how I may be reached. This is urgent, Excellency. Call me as soon as possible. Do not attempt to return here without contacting me first. This is of utmost importance. And whatever you do, Excellency, do NOT attempt to call the Palace. Telephone lines are not secure there.


*** BEEP ***


*** BEEP ***


*** BEEP ***


*** BEEP ***


Hi, Hadji. It's Margie again. I missed you in Calculus last night. If you could give me a call later today, I'd still appreciate that tutoring. My last class gets out at 2:00. You can reach me at home after that. Thanks.


*** BEEP ***


*** BEEP ***


*** BEEP ***


Excellency, my name is Tarang Kumar and I work for Rajeev Subramanian. It is extremely important that I talk with you as soon as possible. Mr. Patel has had to return to the Palace but he has asked that I contact you and inform you what has transpired here in the last two days. Please, Excellency, I am sure you are very busy, but it is vital that I speak with you. The number Mr. Patel left you yesterday is the one you should use. Do not call the Palace. It is not safe. I will remain here as long as I possibly can, but the situation is rapidly deteriorating. Call soon, Excellency. It is most urgent.


*** BEEP ***


Excellency, this is Arun Birla. I need to speak to you about an issue that has come before the Council. Please call me either at my office at the Palace or at home.


*** BEEP ***


"THAT IS THE LAST MESSAGE IN THE SYSTEM. THE FINAL ENTRY APPEARS TO BE AN OPEN LINE THAT USED THE LAST OF THE AVAILABLE MEMORY ALLOCATED TO THE VOICE MAIL PROGRAM. NOTHING FOLLOWS."

"There seems to be a recurring theme there," Garrett observed.

"I wonder about all the hang-ups," Stan commented. "The number seems excessive, doesn't it?"

Race looked thoughtful. "IRIS, that last message . . . is there anything about it that would pinpoint its origin?"

"ANALYZING FINAL MESSAGE . . . ANALYSIS COMPLETE. THERE IS NOTHING ON THE RECORDING TO INDICATE POINT OF ORIGIN, HOWEVER THE NATURE OF THE BACKGROUND LINE NOISE INDICATES AN OVERSEAS CALL."

"There's nothing other than line noise?"

"NEGATIVE."

"Mr. Bannon, may I?" Garrett asked.

"Please."

"IRIS, retain the message for analysis. Then, dial 617-555-2737 and provide a voice interface once the connection is made."

"ACKNOWLEDGED." They waited while IRIS placed the call. "CONNECTION MADE. VOICE INTERFACE ACTIVATED. I HAVE BLAKE FEARDAY ON THE LINE."

"Blake, are you there?"

"Mr. Blackman?"

"Yes. I need you to power up the telecom diagnostics software. I'm going to send you a blank message from a voice mail system. I need you to run it through diagnostics and break it down for me. I need to know the source of the transmission, down to name of the person owning the phone that placed the call, if possible, and I need for you to try to raise any background noise that might be there. It sounds like it may have been deliberately muffled. Let's see if we can get anything off of it."

"Got it. Ready to receive."

"IRIS, please send a copy of the final message now."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. TRANSMITTING NOW."

"Got it! Diagnostics running. It's going to take a few minutes."

"That's all right, Blake. I'll wait."

Blake cleared his throat and asked hesitantly, "Some of the guys here said that you and Stan left for Maine this evening. Did you find Jon?"

Race and Estella exchanged a look and then glanced sharply at Barbara, who's face seemed to be carefully blank.

"Not yet, but we're working on it. What are you doing there so late, anyway?"

Blake snorted. "Where else would I be? You know, with Jon around, I'd almost gotten used to having a life. I sure hope you find him soon. No one else seems to be able to keep anything running around here anymore."

A smile flickered briefly on Barbara's face, but Garrett frowned at the comment. "Did we have another failure?"

"Yeah. Lost the interface software program for the CAD system this evening."

"What was due to be running?"

"The test program for the new line design."

"It's still down?"

"Yeah, but I think Ted's almost got it. He's using a test technique Jon taught him and it seems to be working. Program's recompiling now. We should know in about ten minutes if we've got it fixed." Blake sighed. "I hope you find Jon soon, sir. This is getting worse and worse and we really need him."

"I know, Blake. I'm working on it. Any luck with the phone message?"

"Here it comes now. Looks like it came in through an overseas trunk line. Connected through the Trans-Atlantic cable, main London switching center, across Europe and northern Africa to northern India. All through the old lines . . . nothing on a satellite bounce."

"Were you able to get an origination location?"

"No," he replied regretfully. "You know what diagnostics on those old lines are like. The best we can say is that it originated from somewhere in northern or northeastern India."

Garrett sighed. "I was afraid of that. What about the air time itself? Were you able to raise anything there?"

"It's still working on that. Hold on . . . " When Blake spoke again, his voice had changed and there was a grim note to it. "Most of it appears to be nothing but dead air, but early in the message it was able to raise one exchange."

"What was it?"

"Someone asked, 'What do I do now, sire?' and a second individual replied, 'Just sit there and wait until the line disconnects. I want to make certain no one can warn him.' And that's it."

"All right, Blake. Thank you."

"Jon's in trouble, isn't he?"

"We think he might be," Garrett acknowledged reluctantly, "but as I said, we're working on it."

"Is there anything we can do?"

"Just hold the place together. We'll find him."

"Yes, sir."

Garrett grinned slightly. "He's rubbing off on you Blake."

"What?"

"I was never 'sir' to any of you until Jon came to work for us."

Blake laughed ruefully. "He's so damned polite all the time. It's getting to be a habit. Let us know, okay?"

"Yes. The four of you go home. I don't want you there all night."

"As soon as we get the system up and running again. Night."

"Good night, Blake."

"TRANSMISSION HAS BEEN TERMINATED FROM THE RECEIVER'S END. DO YOU WISH TO RE-ESTABLISH THE CONNECTION?"

"No, IRIS, I'm finished." Garrett turned to the others. "So does that information tell you anything?"

In the distance, a door slammed as Race replied grimly, "Yes, and I don't like the message much. I . . ."

"Race, is someone here?" Benton appeared at the family room door. He waved everyone back into their seats as they started to rise. "I thought maybe Jonny or Hadji . . ." He looked drawn and dark circles under his eyes emphasized the weariness and strain evident in his face. Disappointment was obvious as he gazed at the newcomers.

"No, not yet." Race paused for a fraction of an instant, considering his next words swiftly. Then, he continued almost seamlessly. "They had the opportunity to go to London. I'm still trying to track them down. Don't worry, Benton, I'll find them."

He nodded and they could all see him trying to pull himself together to greet the guests. Warned by a subtle change in expression, Barbara surged to her feet and leaped toward him just as his knees buckled. She caught him around the chest, but his weight was too great and the two of them sank slowly. His head lolled onto her shoulder and she held him close, trying to keep him from collapsing onto the floor. "Race . . ." she gasped.

Race leaped forward, Garrett only a step behind him, and they caught Benton, easing him back off of Barbara and lowering him gently to the floor.

"Put him here," Estella commanded sharply, struggling to her feet with Stan's help. As Race and Garrett laid Benton gently on the sofa, Barbara ran upstairs and got her medical bag. By the time she got back downstairs, he was already starting to regain consciousness.

Benton gazed up at her with a dazed expression. "What happened?"

"You passed out again," she answered gently, pulling the stethoscope out of her ears and releasing the blood pressure cuff. "I want you in bed now. You can't keep pushing like this, Benton. You're accelerating the progress of the illness by exhausting yourself. You need to conserve your strength until we can get the boys home to help you." She looked up at Race. "Let's get him upstairs."

"You have guests. I can manage," Benton said, once Race had gotten him to his feet. "The hell you can," Race replied, drawing Benton's arm across his shoulder. "Come on, let's go. Barbara, can you go up ahead of us and get the bed turned down?" She nodded and headed for the stairs quickly.

Estella, Garrett and Stan watched until Race and Benton disappeared from sight. Then, Stan caught Estella's arm and began tugging her gently back toward the sofa, saying, "You need to lie down again." Estella frowned at him, but he didn't yield. "Lie down!" he insisted sharply. Then he sighed. "I'm sorry for my tone, but I recognize the symptoms, Mrs. Bannon. Toxemia is not something to play around with." He hesitated briefly and then added, "I lost my wife and our unborn son to it. I'd hate for that to happen to you."

Estella sank back onto the sofa, looking stunned. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean . . ."

"It's all right. Just follow your doctor's orders. Annie . . . my wife . . . got impatient with all of the bed rest. She pushed too hard, and . . ." He trailed off and shrugged, refusing to meet her eyes. Finally, he sighed softly and looked up with a pained smile. "I think a great deal of your daughter . . . and Jon. I'd hate to see either of them lose you."

She closed her eyes and nodded at him wordlessly. Suddenly, they snapped opened again and she gazed at Stan intensely. "Are they all right?" she asked him with an edge of desperation.

"Who?" he asked, confused. "Jon and his brother? We don't . . ."

"No. Jonny . . . and my daughter," she replied with difficulty. "They don't . . . talk . . . to us. Not since Jonny and his father . . ." She trailed off, the look of pain and loss tangible.

The two men exchanged a look as Garrett knelt beside her. "They're fine," he assured her gently. "We watch out for them. Jon is a valuable and very important part of our organization. Blake wasn't exaggerating with his comments about how desperately he is missed."

"And you have a remarkable daughter," Stan added. "She's intelligent and funny and caring, and loves Jon very much. She's very protective of him and supports him wholeheartedly in everything he does."

Estella smiled with a trace of sadness. "Yes, she does . . ." she replied. "She always has. And Jonny is the same way about her. It was hard to accept at first . . . the realization of how real their feelings for each other were. They're so young . . ." Then she sighed softly, gazing up blindly at the ceiling. "Not so young any more, I guess."

"That was the problem between Jon and his father?" Stan asked, watching Estella closely.

Her eyes snapped back to his. "It's the illness," she replied sharply. "Benton never would have behaved as he did otherwise. We know that now."

"Do they know it?" Garrett asked.

Her eyes fell under the man's steady gaze. "No," she whispered softly. "It's only been within the last few days that we've finally pinned down the source of the problem. And now we can't locate any of them."

"How sick is Dr. Quest?" Garrett asked gently.

She looked from one man to the other, then closed her eyes and lay there limply, obviously exhausted. "Very sick, and getting worse every day," she admitted heavily. "We desperately need the kids here to help with the research. Benton's rapidly reaching the point where he can't do it any longer. Race has to find them. We have no other choice."

"What about you . . . and Dr. Quest?" Stan protested. "Someone needs to be here with the two of you."

Estella sighed. "I know. But if he doesn't find them, Benton has no chance. Barbara's done all she can and so did all the doctors in Britain, but they were never able to find a cure. If there's an answer to be found, it's going to take IRIS and her analytic capabilities. And with Benton disabled, only Jonny, Hadji, and Jessie have the skill to accomplish it. Whatever the cost here, Race simply has to go after them."


~ ~ ~ ~ ~


When Race and Barbara returned a short while later, the both looked spent. Race dropped into the nearest chair and rubbed his eyes, before saying, "Forgive my manners. Can I offer you anything? Dinner? Some coffee?"

Stan started to shake his head, but Garrett cut him off, replying, "I would love some coffee."

Barbara laid a hand on Race's shoulder, forestalling his attempt to rise. "Stay put. I'll get it." Then she turned and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

"How is he?" Garrett asked quietly.

"Sleeping," Race replied heavily. "Barbara shot him full of something that knocked him straight out. I doubt that he'll stir before morning."

"Is sedating him a good idea?" Estella asked. "His tendency to pass out is bad enough . . . what if he doesn't surface from the drug?"

Race shook his head, looking over at her. "Barbara seemed to feel the benefits outweighed the risks, and I'm not about to question her." He sat up with an alarmed look as Estella suddenly began to struggle for breath, her face flushing a bright red. "Are you all right, Estella? You don't look . . ."

But before he could finish, she went rigid. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she began to twitch spasmodically.

"BARBARA!!!!!!!" Race screamed wildly as he leaped toward his wife.

Stan was just a split second behind him. Snatching his handkerchief from his pocket, he made a roll out of it and forced it between her clenched teeth, being certain to catch her tongue under it. "Don't pin her down," he gasped, keeping her head as still as he could. "She'll hurt herself. Hold her wrists and ankles to keep her from striking something . . . "

Barbara appeared at a run. Yanking her medical bag open, she grabbed a small bottle and filled a syringe quickly. Turning to the woman on the sofa, she snapped, "Hold her arm." She injected the medication swiftly, and after a moment the spasms began to ease. A quick check of Estella's blood pressure confirmed Barbara's fears. She looked up at Race and commanded, "Start the chopper. We're not even going to try for the medical center here . . . we're going straight to Portland." Without a word, Race turned and sprinted for the front door. Turning to Garrett, she said, "Go upstairs. At the head of the stairs, turn right. In the second room on the left you'll find a blue fleece blanket on the end of the bed. Bring it to me." He nodded and left quickly. Then Barbara turned back to Stan.

The man still knelt at one end of the couch holding Estella's head. He had two fingers placed against her carotid artery and his eyes were glued to his watch. "97. It's dropping."

As Barbara pumped up the blood pressure cuff again, she asked, "What was it?"

"150."

Barbara swore. "What happened? Was she on her feet?"

"No. I think it was stress. She was extremely upset over Dr. Quest's collapse."

"Not to mention the news that her only child is off in the middle of a war zone and no one knows how to reach her," Barbara said grimly.

"That didn't help, I'm sure. She's not showing signs of coming around."

"No, she's not, and I don't like it."

"Has she gone into convulsions before?"

"No. She's been relatively stable. It's the only reason I haven't hospitalized her before this."

"Here it is," Garrett said, hurrying in the door and holding out the blanket. Outside, the thumping sound of a rapidly approaching helicopter could be heard.

"Help me," Barbara directed the two men. "We need to wrap her in this blanket and then I'm going to ask one of you to carry her out to the chopper. If I know Race, he'll set it down right outside the front door. I'm also going to ask that both of you stay here." She shook her head. "Neither Benton nor Race will like it, but we can't leave Benton alone and I don't dare stay behind with her in this condition." Rising, she moved out of the way as the two men began doing as she asked. "IRIS, medical emergency override."

"WORKING. VOICE AND BODY IMAGE SCAN VERIFY IDENTITY OF DR. BARBARA MASON. MEDICAL EMERGENCY OVERRIDE ACTIVATED."

"Update access list to Quest Compound to include Garrett Blackman and Stanley Knight. Main residence access only without additional approval. Lock down all high security areas. Upgrade Compound security."

"PLEASE SPECIFY UPGRADE LEVEL."

Barbara looked around helplessly. "I don't know, IRIS. Just make it better than it already is! Benton isn't able to do it and I don't know his designation levels."

"Upgrade to Level 2 status, IRIS," Race said, striding in the front door. "No admittance is to be permitted to anyone other than those designated as family members until notified otherwise." Turning, to Garrett and Stan, he said, "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave . . ."

"No!" Barbara said sharply. "IRIS, cancel that. Upgrade to Level 2 security and deny admittance to all but family members, Blackman, Knight, and emergency medical personnel should they become necessary. Blackman and Knight are not to leave the residence, nor are they allowed in the study, the Bannon's downstairs suite, or the work area of Benton's room. They may have access to the rest of the house and the grounds between here and the main gate, but only to leave the facility."

Race started to protest, "Barbara, I can't allow . . ."

"Don't argue with me," she snapped, cutting him off swiftly. "There's no time." She turned to the two men. "Do you understand your limitations?"

"Yes," Garrett replied immediately. "What do you need us to do?"

"Just keep an eye on Benton. He should sleep through the night, but in case he doesn't, he is NOT to do anything other than go straight back to bed. He is not go back to work. IRIS, if he tries it, you are to lock him out of the lab, do you understand?"

"ACKNOWLEDGED."

"He won't remember you," Barbara continued to the two men, "but IRIS will confirm that you are here under my direction. He doesn't know his sons are missing. Don't tell him. I'd also prefer that you don't tell him about Estella unless you are absolutely forced into it. In the event of a dire emergency, dial 911 and get the paramedics out here. I'll phone them from the chopper and let them know that if they get a call, they are to get out here ASAP. Questions?"

Garrett looked over at Race. "Is there a vid-phone I can use? I've got some contacts that may be of use in locating Jon and his brother. If I can have access to that, I'll see if I can get the ball rolling."

Race hesitated, clearly torn. Barbara laid an encouraging hand on his arm.

"I know they're strangers to you, Race, but you can trust them. I promise you." Then she smiled at him. "If it helps, just remember that Jessica trusts them with the most precious thing in the world to her, and you know how suspicious she is."

Finally, he sighed in defeat. "All right. There's no time to argue about it. IRIS, allow them access to the study for use of the vid-phone only." Turning, he bent down, gathered his wife into his arms, and then straightened once more. "Show them where it is, Barbara, while I get Estella into the chopper. If you aren't out in two minutes, I'll go without you." Almost before he finished the sentence, Race turned on his heel and strode out of the house into the darkness.