Hornet's Nest
By Spense
CHAPTER EIGHTBy the time Scott returned from TB Five with Virgil, the second transmission regarding the ransom drop had just been received. It was noted, verified that it was the same location, and observed closely to make sure Alan looked alright, but other than that, it was essentially disregarded. The Tracys fully intended to have this completely wrapped up by the time the drop was scheduled. The ransom was only in case nothing else worked.
Gordon and Brains had narrowed the location down to a small town in the Cascade Mountains of Western Washington State called Concrete. ("Concrete? Who in the hell has ever heard of Concrete?" The answer was, nobody, apparently.) Gordon found that it was a small town that survived on lumber, of which there was plenty to be found. Lots and lots of trees abounded, a few farms, but not a lot else. The two of them managed to locate an ideal landing spot. It was out of the way, but close enough for hover sleds to be used.
While Gordon and Brains had been busy with the topography, Jeff had been occupied elsewhere. Having contacted Lady Penelope when the original transmission had arrived, he now contacted her once again regarding the actual location. Wanting somebody he trusted absolutely, he requested that she pick him up at the rendezvous site which had been selected just outside of Seattle. Since she had been in New York already, it was just a matter of getting from point A to point B, and she had been in route almost immediately.
Once the matter of his transportation settled, Jeff had contacted the bank in Seattle, arranging to have the cash assembled. It was only to be picked up if all else failed, but being a through man, he wanted all bases covered.
All that remained now was to have all the team members assembled. So as soon as Scott and Virgil landed, the four Tracys loaded into Thunderbird One. The jump seats weren't the most comfortable, but that was the last thing on anybody's mind at the moment. Brains remained as the sole inhabitant of Tracy Island, watching over communications and acting as a central base.
TB TB TB TB TBBy some careful scouting, John and Alan were able to leave the barn undetected, keeping a wary eye on the house. The small building was located well up a long driveway and half hidden by a stand of fir trees, so they were safe enough for the moment. They also found two cars, parked just behind the barn. Obviously these were secondary vehicles and not much used by the looks of them. One was a truck, and the other, an older, nondescript sedan with balding tires. The truck had a flat tire, so that was out.
Keeping a circumspect eye on the house for any sign of its occupant, John walked around the sedan, as his brother poked around on the driver's side. "Looks drivable," John commented. "Guess I'll just have to hot wire it."
The engine started up suddenly. John looked over in alarm as Alan's head popped out. "No problem. I just did." And with that, he disappeared back into the driver's seat.
John felt like a fish out of water. He knew his mouth was hanging open as he stared, frozen.
Alan popped back out again, looking irritated. "Well, aren't you coming?" Then disappeared again.
John shook himself into motion and went over to the driver's side door. Alan was sitting, buckled in and waiting.
"Over," John said firmly.
Alan looked stubborn. "No."
"Alan, you don't even have a driver's license. You're not even old enough for a learner's permit. Get over, I'm driving."
"No. I started it."
John closed his eyes in disbelief. Where was Scott when he needed him? He'd have gotten Alan moved over with one word. He was like Dad in that way. Unfortunately, John was not. "Alan. Now. I mean it."
"No. I'm driving. You don't like that, you don't have to come." Alan's face was a study in obstinacy.
"So help me, Alan, this is not the time or place for this. I swear I'll teach you drive myself when we get back home. But let's just get home. Now MOVE!"
"No." Alan looked forward through the windshield, and started the car rolling.
John swore words a sailor would have envied as the car slid by, and with one last uneasy glance at the quiet house, he turned and bolted for the passenger side as the car passed him. Sliding into it as the car was moving was no easy feat, but he managed as the car picked up speed. By the time he had the door shut, the car was out on the highway and moving at a rapid clip.
"Alan, when we get stopped, you are forever going to rue the day you pulled this crap. Scott's not the only one who knows how to dish it out," John spit out.
"I don't care," Alan said, looking defiant. He continued mulishly. "Besides, I'm a better driver than you are."
John looked at his little brother in dumbfounded amazement. This really took the cake. "How the hell can you be a better driver than I am? You don't even know how to drive," he shouted, getting madder by the minute. "Alan, in one minute, I'm going to push you out that door, moving or not!"
"You just try it!" Alan shouted back.
John had had it. Tracy temper met Tracy temper. Snarling, he stretched his leg over the manual gear shift and kicked Alan's feet off the pedals, startling him. Stomping onto the brake, without engaging the clutch of the manual transmission, the car stalled and quit, right in the middle of the road.
"What'd you do that for?" Alan said furiously. 'Now I have to hotwire it again."
"Out. NOW!" John disengaged his foot, then leaned over his brother and reached to open the driver's side door. "Get out or I'll push you out. And then I'm going to pound you into the pavement!"
"Oh, no you won't! You'll have to catch me . . ." Alan cut his loud tirade off right in mid sentence. "Shit," he said quietly.
John, caught in mid yell by the suddenness of Alan's stillness, looked where Alan was looking. Right into the startled faces of two men, sitting in a car stopped directly opposite them. A car that Alan had stolen the distributor cap from the night before. And they both recognized one of the men as the man in the room at the farmhouse. Apparently, the recognition was mutual.
Alan dove into motion, ducking under the steering column. Before John could even register the movement, the engine was running again, and they were moving smoothly at a very fast pace down the road. It seemed that Alan did indeed know how to drive.
The car continued to pick up speed and entered a curved section of the road. Alan didn't even slow down. He skidded around the tight bend on the narrow two-lane highway. John was staring openmouthed at his 15-year-old brother. Fastening his seatbelt he looked at the speedometer. Then looked away at the road again. He preferred to believe that the speed he saw was not accurate. But as fast as the trees were blurring by, it probably was. Looking behind him, he could see the car still in pursuit.
Alan's concentration on the road was absolute, as was his control of the car. Apparently, somewhere along the line that John (and he would bet money that the rest of his family) knew nothing about, Alan had learned to drive. And drive like a race car driver.
Nudging the car to still faster speeds, he got everything he could out of the ancient engine. As they hit an open spot on the road, breaking out of the hills into a valley, Alan double clutched, worked the stick shift like a pro, then stomped on the gas sending the car rocketing forward. All a stunned John could think of was that Alan was right – he did drive better than he himself did.
"How did you learn to drive like this?" John shouted over the sound of the engine. "You're not even old enough to have a learner's permit! And who in the hell taught you to hotwire a car!"
Alan spared him a quick glance, then returned his attention to the road. "You really don't want to know."
John reflected on this. Alan was right, he probably didn't.
"How far behind us are they?"
John glanced back again. "Just breaking out of the curves right now."
Alan muttered something under his breath and urged the car to still greater speeds.
John closed his eyes. He was just going to pretend he didn't hear that. His father was going to kill him for letting Alan behind the wheel of a car when they got home. If they got home after this wild ride. And what was left of him, Scott would happily finish off. And when his father and older brother were done with him, John was going to take his frustrations out on Alan's hide.
The chase continued in a stalemate for longer than John thought would be possible. The kidnappers in their superior truck were just not a match for Alan's superior driving. John wouldn't have believed it himself had he not been in the car watching it all unfold. "Can we wrap this up please?" He finally asked. John had the feeling that Alan was enjoying all of this a little too much.
"I'll see what I can do," his brother replied. Alan shot out of a straight stretch into a tight left hand bend, and before John even saw it, he'd swung the car into a right turn off the highway, climbing up into the hills.
"How did you know that turn was there. . ." John started, then broke off.
"I saw the road sign," Alan answered grimly, trying to keep the speeding car on the wet, slippery road, and not tell his brother he was an idiot.
John got the point and shut up. He looked behind them again and saw nothing. He began to turn back forward again at his brother's quick curse, then there was nothing more.