Hornet's Nest
By Spense
Thank you for all the reviews. Wow! That was amazing! And don't worry – the story is fully completed. I'm just finishing the final polish.
S.
CHAPTER TWOThe rescue call had come in at about ten pm, and the Tracys' didn't return until nearly four in the morning. The good news was that the rescue was successful. The bad news was that it was, well, four in the morning. Done-in, they worked to complete their post flight checks. Finishing at about the same time, they met in the underground corridor leading back towards the Villa.
"You know, I'm surprised John wasn't down helping out," Scott commented wearily as he moved towards the house.
Jeff's eyebrows went up. "You're right. Knowing John, he would have been down here by now."
"Especially with the Kyrano's gone," Scott reminded his father.
Jeff frowned. Scott was right. The Kyrano family had gone to the mainland for a couple of days of vacation and had taken Fermat with them. John would have been down assisting, knowing they all needed to chip in with the island low on help. The fact that he wasn't raised the hair on the back of Jeff's neck.
"Not Alan," commented Gordon wryly. "He'll be asleep."
Jeff shut him up with an irritated glance, and stopped. "I'm going to check the hanger," he commented, a premonition nagging at him.
Scott just stopped dead and nodded. Concerned as he was, his legs felt too heavy to even move another step if he didn't have to. Gordon, on the other hand, sagged against the wall as if it were the only thing holding him up, and closed his eyes. They both came quickly back to life as their father returned at a fast and very much awake trot. "Tracy One isn't here."
"WHAT?" Gordon snapped in surprise. "They should have been back hours ago."
"I know," Jeff said grimly, and all fatigue forgotten, they headed at a run towards the command and control center.
TB TB TB TB TBJohn sat in a seat in an aircraft, wrists handcuffed together in front of him to something solid. He was blindfolded, but interestingly enough, he was not gagged. That bothered him. That indicated that there was nobody to hear him if he yelled.
And he was scared. The sight of his little brother with a gun to his head was the last thing he had seen. Before he could do anything besides process the scene, he'd been hit from behind and the next thing he knew, he woke up to find he was here. Wherever here was. And whatever time it was. Somewhere in the air in what sounded like a helijet. This aircraft was most definitely not the sleek, ultra-refined, state-of-the-art jet, Tracy One; not with these engines.
But it was the sound of the engines that told him exactly what kind of aircraft he was on. The workman-like din of the motors would have made him laugh under other circumstances. They were definitely manufactured by Tracy Enterprises, and he would have known them anywhere, mainly because of a conversation he'd had with Scott at the time of their development.
Scott had been test piloting a new 'family sized personal transport' that Tracy Enterprises was developing in its helijet line. It had driven him absolutely crazy. Scott had called it a pig, and had said it had all handling finesse of a cement mixer. John had pointed out that this came from the man to whom everything was compared to Thunderbird One.
Personally, John had thought the design a good one, and had liked the looks of it. Scott may not like the handling, but to the average pilot, the fact that it wasn't so touchy and sensitive was actually a good thing. John's opinion had been proven right: it had become a terrific money maker for Tracy Enterprises.
So here he was. Seated in a helijet specifically designed by Tracy Enterprises for families. In other words, individual compartments so that you could separate annoying siblings and create some peace and quiet. There was just a little bit too much irony in this for John's sense of humor at the moment since Alan was no where around.
Now at any other time, being separated from Alan on a trip (however long or short) was not necessarily a bad thing. John could think of any number of times that he would have killed for a helijet like this when they were growing up, but this was not one of them. He would dearly love to know where his little brother was right at the moment. He could only hope Alan was locked away elsewhere on the craft. Any other possibility was too frightening to consider.
A deep voice startled him. It was loud, not surprising, considering the sound of the engines. "So, Mr. Tracy. Enjoying your flight?"
John didn't answer. He was struck sharply on the side of his head for his trouble.
"Answer me!"
It took John a moment to get his equilibrium back and focus on the words. He'd already been knocked out once already, and had a whopping headache because of it. He also felt somewhat sick from the motion of the helijet. He really hadn't needed the additional blow on top of everything else.
John tasted blood and debated whether to respond or not. Finally he sighed. "Not particularly."
A genuine laugh answered him. "So, a comedian. I rather expected railing against your situation. You may be a realist, much like I understand your father to be, hmmm?"
Figuring it was safer not to say anything, John remained silent.
"Hmmm," came the thoughtful voice again. "You surprise me, John Glenn Tracy. You are not at all what I expected."
"And what exactly did you expect?" This was tough. This man may or may not know about International Rescue. If he knew, then there was one set of problems. If he didn't, there was another. Anything he said could be wrong, and could give ammunition to the other side.
"Hmmm, what I expected . . . Well, let's just say I stayed away from your other three brothers. I know that two of them have served with distinction in the military. Your middle brother also is very fit. But you now, well, you've kept a much lower profile. Engineering, Computers and Astronomy at Harvard. A scholar. So, between that and the lack of military training, I thought you'd be an easier target. But now, I'm not so sure," the voice continued conversationally. "Ah, well. Can't be helped now. I have you and your youngest brother."
John closed his eyes in relief. Alan was alive.
"The two most vulnerable Tracy sons."
John's eyes snapped open at that, even though he still saw only the underside of the blindfold. 'Vulnerable!' What the . . . Where on earth had this idiot come up with that description of himself and Alan? For one thing, he obviously didn't know Alan very well. Calling his baby brother vulnerable was a little like calling a cobra harmless. He might change his mind after dealing with the youngest Tracy for awhile. And if this man thought that because John hadn't been in the military service he was an easy mark, well . . . he had another thing coming. He'd managed to survive growing up with four brothers and a father who was both a famous astronaut and an Air Force Major!
Nobody would have lasted long in his family without being tough. John was just frankly astonished at the man's comment. He came from one of the most physically active families he'd ever seen. It had taken him years to realize that his family was not the norm. Normal families did not breed sons who won Olympic gold medals. Normal families did not conceive of, and then enact something like International Rescue. Normal sons do not fly rockets.
But then again, that was the point, wasn't it? John thought as indignation faded. This man couldn't know half of what he and his family had accomplished. Vulnerable indeed. Well, if that's what this man thought, that may work to their advantage. Obviously, with that comment, this man couldn't know about International Rescue. He would be handling the two of them with significantly more safeguards if he did. His suspicions were confirmed when the man continued.
"Just exactly what I needed to make my millions."
Ransom. Oh, for crying out loud. This was patently ridiculous. He was going to be the laughing stock of his brothers for months to come after this.
"Now, I will tell you what I want you to say for the video recording I'll be making shortly for your father. And please remember, I have your younger brother Alan, as hostage for your good behavior."
John felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him. This was for real. Alan's life was in his hands. He also had no doubt that he was also the hostage for Alan's good behavior.
TB TB TB TB TBAt five in the morning, Jefferson Tracy and his two sons, Scott and Gordon, watched in horror the video unfolding in front of them. Brains, who had been working point on the night's rescue, had long since retired, and hadn't been available to ask about John and Alan. So arriving in the study and seeing the blinking light signaling a message on the vidphone had been a welcome sign.
Jeff, assuming it was John, was ready to chew him out for not communicating with them. But the scene, a generic seat on a generic plane was heart stopping. The family watched in horror as the handcuffed and blindfolded man that was unmistakably John spoke.
"I, John Glenn Tracy, am to tell you that my brother, Alan Shepard Tracy and I, are being held for 10 million dollars in ransom. You will receive further instructions on payment in a future transmission."
The screen cut dark. Then, a nearly identical scene was shown. Only the clothes were different, and the build of the blond young man in the seat was slighter. Alan's slightly shaky voice came through this time.
"I, Alan Shepard Tracy, am to tell you that my brother, John Glenn Tracy and I, are being held for 10 millions dollars in ransom. You will receive further instructions on payment in a future transmission."
The screen went black as the transmission ended.
The silence in the room at the close of the transmission was deafening.