Chapter 6: Benton's Sons

Benton stiffened. Hadji? Lord, no! "I want to see Jonny."

"Of course you do," Dr. Pascale said. "And I think it's a good idea. Come along, Dr. Quest."

"We have not finished our conversation," Crandall said.

"For now you have," Dr. Pascale snapped. "I believe the boy will be better off with his father nearby. And you know perfectly well that I have the authority to order it."

Benton didn't like the mask of rage that appeared on Crandall's face, and the speed with which the man suppressed it was equally alarming. "Very well," he said shortly. "Dr. Quest, we will continue this in the morning." With that he stalked out, leaving Benton alone with Dr. Pascale. Marcus followed him out. Benton glanced behind him. The other guard had come out of the bathroom and stood behind him.

Dr. Pascale said, "Follow me, Dr. Quest."

They walked swiftly through the maze of corridors back to the infirmary, where Benton was concerned to see Jonny lying on a bed with an IV drip. Rushing over to his side, he picked up one of his son's hands. "How much blood did he lose?" he asked softly.

"He absorbed two liters very easily, and that brought his blood pressure up to normal."

"Have you replaced the popped stitches?"

"Yes. He will recover and be none the worse for wear. Don't worry. But he was asking for you when he was awake earlier, and I think he'd rest easier if he knew you were in the room."

Benton studied the woman curiously for a moment. "Why do you care? Surely you know why he's here."

"Of course, Dr. Quest, but we don't kill or maim our hostages. No blood is supposed to be drawn, certainly not this early in the proceedings, and not when you're cooperating." Benton took a deep breath, contemplating that calm statement. "I will put Crandall on report for this outrageous behavior. It is not acceptable."

Benton just looked down at Jonny's face. "Has he eaten yet?"

"That's a sucrose drip and Patricia got some soup into him while I was gone, right Patricia?"

"Yes, doctor," the young woman said. "Now that you're back, I'd better go let the dog out of the bathroom, so he can get to his food and water."

Pascale nodded, waving her away, and Benton was glad to find that someone was thinking of the dog. He certainly wasn't, not with Jonny in this state. The boy started shaking his head and moaning in his sleep. Benton leaned down. "It's okay, Jonny, Dad's here."

Jonny opened his eyes. "Am I dying?" he asked.

"No, you're not going to die, Jonny!" Benton exclaimed. "Dr. Pascale says you're going to be fine."

"What's she know?" Jonny said weakly. "She's just a minion."

"Yes, but I think she's a minion with a medical degree." He heard the doctor making an impatient noise behind him, but he ignored her. "I'm going to sleep on this bed right here," he added, pointing to the other bed in the room.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" Jonny asked.

Benton looked over at Dr. Pascale who shrugged. "Once the boy's out of danger, my authority lessens considerably."

"And in the morning. . .?"

"He'll be out of danger. I don't expect there to be any complications."

"I'll try, Jonny," Benton said to his son. "But I can't promise."

"Crandall's an asshole," Jonny said.

"Language, Jonny."

"Okay. Crandall's a sadistic thug."

"Yes, that's true. Good night, Jonny." He stood watching as his son fell asleep, then he sat on the other bed. He wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep, but if he was supposed to meet with Crandall again tomorrow morning, he'd have to be on his toes.

He lay back and stared at the ceiling, counting the dots in the acoustical tiles till he fell asleep.


Race jogged down the stairs to the ground floor of the motel taking them two at a time. He'd gotten some sleep, but it hadn't been easy with the images that kept cascading through his mind. Corvin had returned to Washington late after abjuring him not to anybody off. By anybody Race assumed he meant Lt. McCormick.

She was waiting for him in front of the office. "Good morning, Agent Bannon," she said. "Headquarters just called. They ran the fingerprints we found on the boat and came up dry. There were prints from Dr. Quest and Jonny, and both of the Browns, but the rest of them aren't in the system." She gave him a wry grin. "Your Dr. Quest is an ingenious man. There were full handprints of both his and the boy's on the wall in that cabin."

Race nodded. "Benton's always been thorough." He shook his head and slammed his fist into his hand. "Damn it! We're getting nowhere!" His cell phone rang and he picked it up. "Bannon," he said curtly.

"Race, we have a problem," said Corvin's voice. "I just got a call from Hadji's camp. He's disappeared."

"Hell's bells!" Race roared.

"Calm down. They don't think he was kidnapped. For one thing, he left a note saying that he was going home."

"What is it?" Lt. McCormick asked. Race waved at her to shut up because Phil was still talking.

"He also appears to have borrowed a vehicle –"

"Wait, wait, Corvin. If Hadji's off on his own, then you'd better clear this line. This is the number he'll try to reach me at." Ignoring Corvin's splutters, he shut off his phone. "Do you have a cell phone, Lieutenant?" Wordlessly she drew it out of her jacket pocket and handed it to him. "Does it reach into the States?"

"It should," she replied.

He dialed Corvin's number and held the phone away from his ear while the director favored him with scathing commentary. "Phil," he said finally cutting into the stream. "I had to hang up. If Hadji tries to call, I don't want him getting a busy signal."

Phil was silent for a moment. "Right. What's this number?" He handed the phone over to Lt. McCormick and she passed along the information then handed it back. "Race, Hadji took a moped from the camp site. He'll be headed back to Maine. I've got guards stationed there since the house security is non functional, but do you have any way to contact him?"

"I can try his cellular, but there's no guarantee that he'll have it on."

"Well, do it, Race."

Grimacing, he hung up on Phil again and dialed Hadji's number quickly. He heard Hadji's voice, but the instant of hope was damped immediately, it was his voice mail. "Hadji is probably off saving the world right now, so please leave a message and he will call you back as soon as it is feasible."

"Hadji, this is Race. Call me on my cell phone as soon as you get this message. I'm not in Maine and the phones there aren't working." He hit the end button on Diana's phone and pursed his lips. He called Phil back. "I got his voice mail," he said to Phil. "I don't know how soon he'll check it, or even if he has the phone with him. Hadji's usually pretty on the ball, so I would think so."

"Keep me informed," Phil said. "I've got people going over satellite footage in the area. The electric clocks in the compound gave us a pretty clear idea of when the attack took place, so we're hoping to get a line on them that way."

"Let me know if you find anything. Once I've found Hadji, I'm going to start looking to see where some of our old friends are. I take it there were no demands received overnight."

"No." Phil sounded tired. "Though word from our informants is that Zin is very annoyed with us for losing his nemesis. He seems to think it's his job to deal with Benton. My concern is that he's going to start looking for him himself."

"That sounds like Zin, all right."

"Let me know if you hear from Hadji. I'm going to skin that boy alive if he gets himself caught."

Race gulped. "Corvin, I've had a horror show playing in my head all night. Please don't help." With that, he hung up the phone and turned to Lt. McCormick. "I'd better head back to Maine. Benton's other son has run away from his camp."

Her jaw dropped. "But why? How old is he?"

"He's fourteen. And he wants to help find Benton and Jonny." Race shook his head. "I should have gone and gotten him. After the number of times those boys stowed away or snuck after us on missions I should have known better."

"So it's true? Dr. Quest's children have been involved in his operations?"

Race raised an eyebrow at the understatement. "I'm not sure 'involved' is the right word. Half the time we find out there is an operation because one of the boys stumbles on it and gets hurt or kidnapped or threatened or something." He sighed. "You might as well call us 'Team Quest' and throw my daughter in with the boys. Thank God she's in Argentina with her mother right now or she'd be trying to put her oar in, too."

"So you're heading back to the States?" she asked.

"Yeah. I'd better see if I can find a commercial flight."

"I could requisition a plane from headquarters," she suggested. "Then we wouldn't be tied to airline time tables."

"We? Are you coming?"

"I was informed, last night, that I was to give you whatever help you needed, up to and including hopping on a rocket for a moon shot."

"We don't keep those in Maine," he said dryly.

"Glad to hear it. I didn't pack my vacuum suit." She put in a call to her headquarters and they were soon on their way to another airstrip to pick up the plane. Once they were in the air, she said, "What does your wife do in Argentina?"

"My ex-wife," he said. "Estella is an archeologist. Don't ask me to explain what she does, I couldn't."

"How old is your daughter?"

"Jessie? She's thirteen, smack dab between the boys and are she and Jonny ever competitive." He fell silent suddenly, trying not to imagine how Jessie would react if Jonny was dead.

"We'll find them, Race."

"We'd better."


Benton woke up and blinked at the ceiling, feeling disoriented. He sat up in the dim infirmary and got out of bed to check on Jonny. He was sleeping peacefully, still breathing and his pulse seemed normal. Once he was reassured on that point, Benton wondered where the guards were. If he could find a phone with an outside line, or a computer that had access to the internet, he might be able to get a message to Race.

He crept to the door of the room and peered out. No one was in sight, but he could see the faint glow of a monitor about fifteen feet away. Walking very quietly, wishing he had Race's skill at this moment, he crossed to the computer. Working swiftly, hoping not to be caught in the middle of this endeavor, he started checking through the computer's directories, looking for a link to the internet. While he worked, he glanced around for a phone.

A phone seemed a little risky though. It was a good bet that calls to numbers outside this complex were monitored in some way, or they might even go through a live operator. If these people had a corporate handbook that covered what methods of torture were permitted on young boys, their security had to be pretty tight. It was possible, however, that they hadn't plugged every hole in their internet access.

Footsteps in a nearby room made him clench his teeth. He returned the computer to the screen he'd found it on and scurried back to his bed, making as little noise as possible. A few moments later, Dr. Pascale walked into the room and checked Jonny's vitals, making notes on his chart. This is one hell of an organization, he thought as the doctor left again. Keep the kid healthy so he can be of further use as a hostage. Unfortunately, she didn't leave the infirmary this time, but went out and sat down at the computer after turning on the lights.

The adrenalin was coursing through him after that fruitless attempt at communication, and he began to hope that they hadn't installed any security systems on the computer. If they had some way to track every keystroke, he was due for an irate visit from Crandall. Or possibly Jonny is . . . Benton's whole body tensed as he considered that possibility. That idiot had nearly killed his son through carelessness. God knew what he'd do to him on purpose.

After a while, he abandoned the attempt to sleep and rolled over, watching Jonny's chest go up and down. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Nearly six in the morning. No wonder he couldn't get back to sleep. He sat up and tried to pull his thoughts together. There was no knowing when Crandall would show up for the rest of his interrupted conversation.

Patricia walked in and saw him sitting up. "Are you ready for some breakfast, Dr. Quest?" she asked.

He sighed. "I guess so."

She went to Jonny's side and checked on his IV. "He's doing fine, sir. If he eats properly this morning, we should be able to discontinue the IV."

That would be a blessing. An IV would be difficult to drag along on an escape. Benton stood and stretched, then went around to look at Jonny. Patricia turned on the light as she left, and Benton gazed down at his son's face. His color was better this morning, that was certain. He pulled up a chair and sat down at Jonny's bedside, wanting to be nearby when the boy woke up. Assuming Crandall would permit it. He tamped down on the fury that rose at that thought. There will be plenty of time for being angry when we're safe, he told himself. Just now, he had to keep a cool head.

Patricia came back in carrying a tray with a glass of orange juice, a bowl of cut fruit, a bagel and cream cheese. He took it and ate automatically, barely tasting the food.

Jonny slept on, unaware of his scrutiny. He'd probably be desperately embarrassed if he woke up to see his father gazing at him this way. Benton snorted. His two boys were enough to keep any father in antacids, though Hadji he could at least count on to be polite. Jonny had difficulty obeying one of their primary rules about these sorts of situations. Don't antagonize the villain.

He put the tray aside when it was empty and wished Jonny would wake up. He wanted to see his son's eyes alert and aware of what was going on around him before he had to leave. But after his experiences of the day before, Jonny needed his rest.

Benton stood and started pacing. Crandall was going to expect him to describe his plans for the nerve gas project. The trouble was, he couldn't think past Jonny at the moment. He was still trying to get his thoughts organized when a sleepy voice from the bed made him stop abruptly.

"Dad? You're making me dizzy," Jonny complained, sitting up. "What's this?" he asked, looking down at the IV sticking out of his arm.

"It's an IV, Jonny. Don't worry about it."

"What happened? I know some of my stitches ripped out." Jonny looked puzzled.

"Yes. Three of your stitches popped and you nearly bled to death." He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him and glanced back to see Patricia looking startled. Looking back at Jonny, he saw that the boy's eyes were wide and frightened. "You need to be careful, Jonny. Don't make that man angry. He's dangerous and none too bright. And in the future, if you're in pain or you feel bad, you need to tell someone. These people may be lunatics but they clearly don't want you to die." Yet, he added internally, but didn't say aloud.

"I really almost died?"

"If someone hadn't realized that you were bleeding, you might have." He gripped Jonny's hand in his very tightly. "Listen to me, Jonny, take very good care of yourself and follow rule number one. Don't antagonize anybody."

Jonny nodded. "Right, Dad."

Patricia came forward hesitantly. "Are you ready for breakfast?" she asked Jonny.

"Sure," he said. Patricia left the room again.

Benton leaned down and said, "Please, Jonny, don't make things any harder for me." Jonny gulped and nodded. "If he hurts you I'm likely to lose my temper and then we'll really be in trouble."

"What's he want you to do, Dad?"

"Don't worry about it, Jonny. Race will find us and everything will be okay."


His father was looking at him earnestly, and Jonny knew that the empty feeling in his stomach had nothing to do with food. Dad wasn't actually sure that Race would find them. He could tell. He felt tears well up in his eyes and bit his lip trying to contain them.

"Jonny, we'll be all right," his father said, pulling him into his arms. That broke the last of his defenses, and Jonny started crying.

Patricia came in with a tray of food and Jonny glared at her. He didn't want her coming and seeing him like this. Rotten deluded minion. He turned his head away.

"What's wrong?" she exclaimed. "Are you in pain?"

Jonny turned back and glared at her again. "What do you think's wrong?"

She put the tray down on the other bed and came over to stand by him. "It's all right, Jonny. You'll like it here once things are calmer. My family came into the corporation when I was five. It just takes some time to adjust."

"Were you kidnapped?" his dad asked her, and Jonny's eyes shot to her face to see her reaction.

Her eyes widened and she said, "We were recruited."

His father let out a sardonic sigh. "Translation: you were kidnapped."

"Did anyone ever hurt you?" Jonny demanded.

She shook her head, not looking at Dr. Quest. "My parents cooperated."

"I was cooperating," his father said repressively.

"I don't know – this isn't how it's supposed to work," she said.

"What happened to your parents?" Jonny asked.

"They both worked at the main facility until my father died of liver cancer. My mother retired and lives in the States."

"They let her leave?" Jonny asked incredulously.

"Of course." Patricia shrugged. "She lives in Florida on their pension."

"And the corporation still has you," his father said. Jonny looked up at him curiously. His father had an odd, shuttered look on his face.

"Well, I still work for them," she said reasonably.

"Do you have any siblings?" his father asked.

A brief unhappiness crossed her face. "My older sister, Pamela, died when I was little. My parents never had any other children."

"How did she die?" Jonny asked curiously.

"I think she was sick. I remember visiting her in an infirmary." There was a distant look in her eyes, and Jonny made a sudden, alarming connection.

"They killed her, didn't they?" Jonny blurted.

"Of course not!" Patricia exclaimed, looking down at him. "What an imagination you have. She was sick for weeks."

Jonny felt vague stirrings of panic. "Dad, they don't have Hadji, do they?"

"No, Jonny, they don't have Hadji."

"Are you sure?"

His father caught his chin in his hand. "They'd tell me if they had him. There wouldn't be any point otherwise."

"Would you tell me?"

"Of course I would. Don't worry, Jonny. They aren't going to take Hadji." Jonny wondered why his father was so sure. Had Crandall said something about Hadji?

Before he could ask, though, Dr. Pascale came in and started checking him over. When she saw he hadn't eaten his breakfast yet, she raised an eyebrow. "You need to eat, young man. You can't begin healing properly until you eat."

His father squeezed his shoulders. "And you can't get that IV out until you're feeling better." Jonny caught the underlying meaning in that right away. He reached out and grabbed the bowl of fruit and started eating immediately.

Jonny's view of the doorway was obscured by the adults gathered around him, but he saw his father stiffen and slowly straighten before he heard the voice.

"Dr. Quest, Mr. Crandall is ready for you." It was Marcus, the guard from last night. Jonny froze. "This way."

Giving him a last squeeze, Jonny's father walked away from him, leaving him with Patricia and Dr. Pascale. Jonny took a deep breath and tried not to feel abandoned. His father couldn't argue, couldn't insist on staying. He kept eating the fruit, determined to get better as soon as possible. He wished he hadn't been so stupid as to fall off the wall in the first place.


They landed at the airstrip, where Corvin's guards had set up some lights hooked to a diesel generator. Benton will love that, Race reflected. The light from the lighthouse was shining once more, and Race could see cables stretched along the cliffs. He wondered how far afield they'd had to go to get to good wires.

As they disembarked from the plane, a man Race knew vaguely, Agent Saddler, he thought, came up and said, "The older boy has arrived. He's up in the house."

Race took off running for the house, hoping to reach Hadji before he got to the kitchen. He wanted to be annoyed with Corvin's men for letting the boy go inside, but Hadji was as stubborn as the rest of them. He would have sneaked in if they'd tried to stop him. For all he knew, that was what had happened.

He swung around the doorframe into the open door to the kitchen and stopped dead. Hadji was staring at the blood on the table and the floor. He turned to see Race in the doorway. "Whose blood is it, Race?"

From his expression, Race could tell that Hadji was hoping it was one of the kidnappers, and Race could have kicked himself for not being more explicit when he'd spoken to him. "It's – It's Jonny's, Hadji."

The boy's eyes widened, and he looked again at the stains. "Is he alive?"

"We think so," Race said. "They stitched his wound, and we found evidence of his presence on the boat that took them away. His and Dr. Quest's."

"Do we have any idea who took them?"

"I'm afraid not."

Hadji broke from his stunned immobility and slammed into Race, giving him a fierce hug.