Chapter 2: Blood and Bandages
Race sat at the table in the restaurant Estella had taken them to. Chinese food, in Buenos Aires. He shook his head. Both of the girls had gone to the ladies room, leaving him alone at the table. Picking up a sliver of pork with his chopsticks, he wondered how Jonny and Dr. Quest were enjoying their movie night.
Race smiled to himself. It had been the only thing Jonny could talk about for two days, and Race thought it was a great idea. Benton and Jonny needed more quality time alone together. With the life they all led, that was a rare and precious commodity.
Shortly after the boat got underway, the medic came in with a basin of water and medical supplies to see to the smaller cuts and abrasions Jonny had suffered when he fell into the bush.
"If you just leave the supplies, I can take care of that," Benton said. She looked up, perplexed. "I'd rather do it myself, thank you. I doubt he'd appreciate you seeing him unclothed."
She left briefly, and he could hear a low-voiced conference in the hall. The white-haired man came in and said, "Very well, you can see to his injuries yourself."
"Thank you," Benton said with a hint of irony in his tone. The man nodded brusquely and left them alone.
Once it was clear that they weren't going to be interrupted, Benton started mopping up the blood from the scratches. He removed Jonny's jeans and his t-shirt, both of which were damaged beyond hope of repair, and scanned his body for more serious injuries that might have been hidden by his clothing. Finally, he daubed the antibiotic ointment on the various wounds and applied adhesive bandages to the larger ones.
Sitting back, he reflected that it wasn't a good sign that Jonny hadn't awakened during his handling of him. He reached out and touched his son's forehead. There didn't appear to be a fever. It must be the morphine putting him out. He looked around for something suitable to cover Jonny up with, but all he had was the blanket they'd brought from the house. Gently, he wrapped his son in it, both to keep him warm and to shield him from view. He wasn't putting him back in those ripped up clothes if he could help it. Surely their captors would provide something else.
Turning away from his son, he looked at all the cloths and swabs he'd used to clean Jonny up, and he realized that he had the perfect medium to leave evidence of their stay on this little boat, should the vessel fall into friendly hands. Picking up one of the more liberally smeared tissues, he leaned over Jonny and, a short way above the bed, drew first a J and then a B in blood. Nervous now, lest someone come in before he was done, he hastily picked up another tissue and wiped the blood away, leaving no visible trace.
Unraveling the cut edges of Jonny's jeans, he secreted some of the bloody fragments underneath the mattress and up on the underside of the chair. Then he gathered up the fabric and debris and put them by the door where they could be easily picked up when someone returned, avoiding close scrutiny of the area around the bed.
He had just settled back in the chair when the door opened again. The medic came in, bearing a plastic bag of carrot sticks and two of the small containers of fruit juice that come with the straw attached to the back. She glanced at Jonny, who slept peacefully in his blanket cocoon, then gathered up the supplies and the debris.
No more than a couple of hours after that, the boat chugged to a halt. Jonny was still sleeping. Benton had woken him up long enough to let him drink some juice and eat some carrot sticks, but the morphine was clearly knocking him out. Benton waited nervously for someone to come. What did these people want? He'd never been a prisoner this long without somebody explaining why. Usually the villains couldn't resist jumping straight into the exposition.
A quarter of an hour passed before the door opened. The medic came in again and squatted down by the bed. Benton watched as she examined his son, unwrapping him from the blanket to check the wound for seepage, placing a hand held electric thermometer in his ear to check for fever. "Well?" he asked.
"He seems just fine. A very healthy little boy," she said as she placed the blanket back around him. She smiled down at Jonny and gave his hair a tousle, then she stood. Benton took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, clenching his fists. These people were bizarre. "Someone will be in to fetch the two of you shortly."
"Thank you," Benton said in a very flat voice. She smiled and left. Benton immediately re-wrapped Jonny's blanket more snugly.
A few moments later, the leader came in. "I presume you'd still prefer to carry your boy, Dr. Quest?" he asked. Benton nodded. "We will be transferring to the plane now." Someone came in and took Bandit's carrier. Benton picked his son up and followed them, looking around to see where they were.
It was difficult to say for certain. There was no land in sight in any direction, nor any boats or buoys. Just a plane on pontoons. The guns were less in evidence now. He supposed that they reasoned that he wouldn't try to escape under these circumstances, when there was no place for him to go. Unfortunately, they were right. Benton glanced up at the brilliantly blue sky and wished it were night, so he could have the slightest notion of where they were. Admittedly, there was a finite distance that they could have covered in the hours since he and Jonny had been brought aboard, but he'd like more specific information, and he doubted he could get that from their captors.
They took him across to the plane and into another small room. This one contained two beds, one of which folded into a table. No one remained behind this time to explain the facilities, so Benton put Jonny down, covered him up carefully with another blanket and explored them himself. There was a small lavatory with a tap for water, and under the permanent bed there was a small refrigerator in which there were a variety of sandwiches and fruit drinks. There were no windows. He had just sat down on the bed opposite Jonny's when the door opened. He got to his feet quickly, but it was just the same young blond woman from the boat, carrying Bandit's carrier in one hand and a small valise in the other. A small, somewhat familiar-looking valise.
"We thought you might like a change of clothes," she said, putting both objects down. "Is there anything else you need, Dr. Quest?"
"I don't think so."
"The flight will take several hours. We will be landing after dark."
"Thank you for the information."
She pointed to a small, glowing button. "If you press that, someone will come by to assist you." With that, she closed the door and locked it again. Benton got up and let Bandit out of the carrier, placing the still-somnolent dog on the foot of Jonny's bed. Then he opened the valise, and stared in surprise. If he was not mistaken, he was looking at the reason for the delay in their departure. These were his own clothes, and Jonny's, and this was definitely an overnight case from their storage room. Benton sat down, feeling somewhat stunned as he considered the implications of this? How long did these people intend on keeping them? How long did they think they could succeed in keeping them? He had no idea, as of yet, just who his real captors ultimately were. This plane, the large number of people, the whole set up suggested a large-scale operation, but it didn't have the feel of any of his usual antagonists.
They had sent in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt for Jonny. Benton managed to put them on him without really waking him, then covered him up again.
When he heard the aircraft's engine start, he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Race would be at the Maine house in the early morning. He'd see the blood and all the other evidence, and he would come after them. He would find them, and they would return home. He snorted. To a ruined house with no power and no water.
There was reading material in small compartment in the wall. He pulled out a copy of Anne of Green Gables, that being the least saccharine of the options, and began to read.
He'd finished that book and was contemplating whether he wanted to read Pollyanna or just sit quietly when he heard the plane's engine change. They banked, and he felt the beginning of the descent. Bandit was beginning to stir, and Benton thought it wise to put him back in the carrier. Lord only knew what he might do in these circumstances. Jonny was still out, though he suspected the morphine would wear off soon. He went and sat beside him, leaning across his body to hold him steady if the landing was rough.
He needn't have worried. They landed smoothly and taxied to a halt. A few moments later, the door opened again, and he stood to greet the medic. She was followed into the room by two of the gun-toting goons.
"As I'm sure you have guessed, Dr. Quest, we have arrived." He gazed at her unblinking, waiting for her to say something else. She dropped her eyes. "I'm afraid that you will have to be sedated to enter the facility."
"What?" Benton rose, glaring. "I don't think so."
"It is necessary," she said. "I assure you, we will not harm you or the boy in any way."
He glanced at the fellows behind her, who were holding their rifles ready, though not leveled. "I suppose I have no choice."
"Please lie down on the bed, sir." He gave Jonny a last look then went and lay down. She swabbed his arm with alcohol, then injected the drug into him. "Count backwards from one hundred, please," she said. He just gave her a disgusted look and closed his eyes.
Race circled the airfield once, wondering why no one was responding to his radio calls, not even IRIS. The lights on the landing strip were out, and none of the computerized landing programs that coordinated with IRIS were getting any information. This did not look good.
He landed the plane without any difficulty, but no one came out to greet him. Not even Bandit. He jumped down from the cockpit and ran up to the house, pulling his gun out of its holster as he went. All the windows into the living room were shattered. He ran up to one of them and looked in. There was a half-full bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, and M&Ms scattered across the surface. He stepped in through the window and looked around. Apart from M&Ms thrown about the room, there were no signs of a struggle. He went on into the kitchen and froze, staring at the table. A pool of blood had dried on the top and dripped off the edge, creating a brown stain on the floor.
"IRIS?" he said, waiting for the computerized system to respond. The silence was eerie. He walked swiftly to the terminal by the door and saw that none of the lights were on. The security system was offline. He made a quick survey of the house and found signs of hasty packing in Benton and Jonny's rooms. With a sinking heart, he pulled out his cell phone and put a call through to Phil Corvin's emergency line.
"Yes?" said the voice of Nadine, Corvin's assistant.
"Bannon here, I need Corvin now."
"I'm sorry, he's meeting with the -"
"Code 91," he said.
"Just a moment." Less than thirty seconds passed before Corvin himself was on the line.
"Race, what's happened?"
"Have you heard from Dr. Quest?"
"No. Should I have?"
"Fur on a catfish," he muttered.
"Race?" Corvin asked in a warning voice.
"They're not here, Phil. Someone's broken into the house, the security is offline, their clothes and other personal items are gone, and there's blood in the kitchen. I haven't had time to look over the grounds yet, but it doesn't look promising." He paused. "Get an evidence team up here now."
"Already moving," Phil said. "Anything else?"
"You know what I know. I'm going to keep looking around and see what I can find."
"Keep me posted. Did you say IRIS is offline?"
"Everything's down. I had to land by sight and instruments."
"Shit." There was a click as Phil hung up the phone.
He was still in Jonny's room, looking around at the mess that had been left behind. He walked over to the window, which was wide open, and looked out. One of the bushes looked a little odd. Running down the stairs two at a time, he went outside and took a look. It appeared that someone had landed in it, and there was a trail of blood leading from it to the kitchen door.
As he walked across the grounds to go check the lighthouse, he dialed the number of Hadji's camp. A cheerful voice answered the phone and he asked for Hadji. After a brief argument, the cheerful voice left and was replaced by Hadji, sounding worried.
"Yes, Race? Is anything wrong?"
He heaved a sigh of relief when he heard the boy's voice. Then he took a deep breath and said, "It appears that Dr. Quest and Jonny have been kidnapped."
"What? When?"
"At a rough guess, last night. So if anyone who isn't me comes to get you, don't go with them."
"What if it's Dr. Quest?"
"Especially if it's Dr. Quest. I'm serious, Hadji. If it's not me, you stay at camp. Do you hear me? I don't care if it's the president himself."
"Yes, Race. I will do as you say. Are you coming to get me?"
"Not right now. I think you're safest there, where you're surrounded by people."
"But I wish to help."
"I know. Right now the best way you can help is by staying right where you are, doing what you're told and not getting caught." There was a frustrated silence on the other end of the line. "I'm sorry, Hadji, but I don't know how you could help when I don't have the first idea where to look."
"But, Race -"
"I'm sorry. Can you put the director on the line?"
The director sounded very alarmed when he explained the situation to her, but she agreed to keep Hadji there and not allow him to be taken away by anyone but Race himself. He disconnected, knowing that Hadji had to be distressed, but he didn't want to have to worry about him just this minute. Sighing, he dialed Estella's satellite phone and gave her the rundown on the situation. When he suggested sending guards out to keep any eye on them, she pointed out that the wilds of Argentina weren't a likely place for kidnappers to find success. He agreed, and disconnected, thankful for once at not having to talk to Jessie. Her reaction would have been much the same as Hadji's, only less polite.
He spent some time looking over the grounds, but he didn't see any evidence of how they were taken away. It was unbearably frustrating not to be able to do anything right away. Turning, he gazed at the house from a distance. He was at an angle that blocked the expanse of broken glass, so it looked as peaceful as it always did. Race knew he'd better stay away. He'd already touched too many things in the house while searching for Dr. Quest and Jonny, and he shouldn't muddle things for the forensics team any further.
"Damn, do I feel useless!" he growled.
After nearly an hour of fruitless wandering, the sound of an approaching helicopter caught his attention, and he looked upward, shielding his eyes against the sun. His cell phone rang. "Bannon," he said, answering it.
"Please don't shoot us when we land, sir," said the voice on the phone.
"I won't. Not if you're going to do something useful." As the chopper set down, he suddenly found himself wondering again where the dog was.
