Hornet's Nest
By Spense
CHAPTER TENThe rendezvous with Penny went off without a hitch, and in no time at all, FAB-1, chauffeured by Parker was on its way with Jefferson Tracy, billionaire businessman, and Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward. Gordon could see his father already on his cell phone before they even pulled away from the rendezvous site. Creating havoc at the Federal Building from the look of it, of that Gordon had no doubt.
It suddenly surprised him to realize that he may have gotten his ability to work out schemes and complex pranks from his father. Thinking about what Jeff was planning to do with the FBI, using them for his own plans, made him realize that they were not that different. Jeff just worked on a much bigger scale.
Grinning to himself, he thought that the FBI didn't stand a chance. They'd never know what hit them. Jefferson Tracy, all riled up, was a force to be reckoned with, as his sons all had cause to know. This situation definitely qualified. The puppet master was at work, and even angry, Jefferson Tracy was as subtle a magician at pulling the strings as there ever was. Gordon could only hope that when he reached his father's age, he was as skilled as father.
The red-haired Tracy's attention was brought back to the present as Scott lifted Thunderbird One off the ground with his usual skill. Gordon watched as FAB-1 disappeared rapidly into a pinpoint dot, then vanish altogether. The trip upstate was made in a matter of minutes with the Thunderbird, and Scott made another textbook perfect landing at the predetermined spot.
The silence of the trip was finally broken as Scott climbed out of the pilots seat and began issuing orders. "Get your weapons and hover sleds. We have one hour to do what we need to do. John and Alan are our first priority. Then we can exact a little satisfaction before Dad and the FBI helijet in."
Gordon opened his mouth to tell Scott that he was preaching the choir, as well as stating the obvious, but a quick shake of Virgil's head made him think better of it. Scott could be incredibly irritating in this mood, but Virg was right – now was not the time to call him on it.
In silence, they went about getting themselves prepared. Charcoal gray gloves and dark helmets with tinted, one-way mirrored visors completed their attire. A closed circuit intercom system was imbedded in the helmets for them to communicate, but they were all aware that the less they spoke the better. Soft conversations could be heard outside the helmets if they weren't careful. They all knew without saying that they were no longer International Rescue, they were a clandestine, purposeful strike force with one goal: get their own out of harms way.
It was only a matter of moments before they were at the site. A small farmhouse with a single outbuilding. There were three vehicles parked haphazardly in the yard. Gordon looked incredulously at the scene. This was where his brothers were being held? At least, this was where the transmissions had originated from. This was going to be embarrassingly easy. He had pictured some kind of walled fortress. Glancing at his brothers, Gordon couldn't tell if they were feeling the same, as the mirrored helmets made them impersonal. And frightening. Gordon was suddenly glad he was on their side. He shivered and turned his attention back to the house.
Following Scott's hand signals, the three dispersed around the perimeter. They silently checked the shop, the cars, and anything else in the late afternoon light that might hide a guard. Invisibly they converged at the house, pressing against the side, blending like shadows against the peeling, weather-beaten paint.
"No sign of John or Alan," Gordon whispered.
"Somebody was in the shop at some point, but not now. There were several sets of footprints in the dust, including a very clear print of those fancy running shoes of Alan's," Virgil reported.
Gordon winced. Those shoes were very distinctive (and very expensive) and had been the cause of a great deal of consternation in the Tracy household. Alan had desperately wanted a pair, and had been beside himself when Gordon had received a pair for his birthday. Alan had finally gotten his own pair when his birthday rolled around a few weeks later, to the relief of the rest of his brothers. Peace had finally reigned once more.
"It looks like somebody moved the workbench not too long ago as well. And there was a pair of handcuffs on the floor next to it," Virgil continued.
None of them needed to say anything much after that. They were in the right place. Alan at least had been in the shop at some point, based on the shoe prints.
"That just leaves the house," Scott grimly replied.
They fell silent for a moment, listening for any sounds they could hear. Anonymous faces turned as one as the indistinct sounds of an argument floated towards them through the afternoon air. Following Scott's signal, they moved silently around the house until they were close enough to hear more clearly.
A few words and sentences came through, mainly about something going drastically wrong. Gordon's blood chilled at that. He didn't want to think about anything going wrong. He would love to get his hands on the owners of the voices. Not long now, he forced himself to wait with patience.
"Three," Scott said softly, listening.
Virgil's visor nodded. "Not John's or Alan's though," was his soft comment.
"No," Scott agreed.
"They sure seem upset about something," Virgil muttered.
"John and Alan," Gordon suggested, humor filtering through even his adrenaline filled worry. Even restrained, he could imagine the havoc they could create.
"Maybe," Scott answered, completely devoid of amusement.
Gordon winced. Big brother in action. This would be impressive. Even for Scott, he was cranked up way beyond anything Gordon had ever seen. All they had to do now was to keep Scott from killing these morons. If something had happened to either John or Alan, he wasn't all that sure that they would be able to restrain him. He stole a quick glance over at Virgil, whose mirrored visor met his. Gordon didn't even need to see Virgil's face to know that he was thinking the exact same thing.
"Ok, let's move," Scott commanded. Using hand signals, he directed his brothers to their positions.
Gordon's adrenaline began to pump as action was finally in the wind.
On Scott's signal, they burst into the house and were practically on top of the three arguing men before they noticed that they were there. All in all, it was an incredibly un-satisfying take-down.
Although they probably could have restrained them without a punch being thrown, all three Tracy brothers managed to get a few licks in while handcuffing the men to their chairs. However, they still had more important things on their minds.
"Where are they?" Scott's filtered voice was loud in the sudden stillness to the stunned men.
"Who?" A sturdy dark-haired man tried to bluff.
Scott's sudden blow broke his nose without a seconds hesitation.
The internal microphone clicked on again. "Virg, check upstairs." Virgil headed for the stairs immediately.
Gordon could just imagine how it must have looked to the kidnappers. The only words they would have heard the entire time was Scott's question.
"Nothing, Scott," Virgil's strained voice answered. They could hear him coming down again, and moving through the rest of the house. "They aren't here!"
"Shit," Gordon heard himself exclaim. He was moving forward towards a younger, unkempt blond man seemingly without violation as he heard Scott's whip-crack question again.
"Where are they!" The question was followed by the sound of a hard body blow.
The man Gordon was approaching determinedly looked at him in fear and blurted, "They escaped! Sometime last night. I swear! They had a car. I saw them myself!"
"Shut up, you fool," the third man, a dark man in his mid thirties hissed. He had the misfortune of drawing Scott's attention to him with that comment. He looked at the menacing figure towering over him without fear. "Yes, they escaped. But we have them again. You won't find them."
Gordon caught his breath as Scott loomed ominously over the man. Scott, like all of the rest of them, had had a tough six months. Alan missing once was bad enough. But now, John and Alan both missing was enough to send all of them over the edge. And Scott had the 'big brother complex' to go with it – he was just sure that if he'd been more diligent, none of this would have happened. Bull, in Gordon's opinion, but that was just Scott. Scott was just about ready to murder this man, Gordon had no doubt whatsoever.
The internal microphone clicked again. "Virg, you and Gordon go search the house. See if you can find any sign of where they might be."
Gordon hesitated. Virgil didn't. "Five minutes Scott. Don't kill him."
"What do you take me for?" Scott's cold voice answered.
Gordon shivered as Virgil turned to carry out his orders, apparently convinced that Scott was in his right mind. Gordon followed more slowly, not nearly as convinced.
Exiting the room, Virgil and Gordon turned in opposite directions, splitting up the house. Between the two of them, they turned the place inside out, unconcerned about subtly. They worked their way through the shabbily furnished rooms, all the while keeping a wary ear tuned towards the interrogation in the other room.
Gordon took out his frustrations on the furniture, working off his tension by overturning tables and dumping drawers. It wasn't until he spied a familiar wallet atop a messy table in the kitchen that Gordon felt the tension crystallize to a slow, burn deep inside. His focus narrowed to a laser-intense beam as he found a second wallet, along with two very familiar 'watches'.
It was the last items he found though, that sent him moving before he was aware of it. He didn't even realize what he was doing until he'd landed a very satisfying blow to the middle of the blond's face. If that didn't break his nose, then he'd lost his touch. Shaking his stinging hand, he looked towards Scott, and Virgil who'd followed him back into the room.
Scott, dark flight suit liberally stained with blood and sweat, turned away from a far less cocky kidnapper. "What did you find?" Scott asked via the internal communications system, nodding towards the bundle in Gordon's hand. "This jerk doesn't know anything. John and Alan are gone. Apparently escaped."
In response, Gordon dropped the wallets and wristcomms onto the floor. After a pause to make sure all eyes were on him, he dropped the rest of his finds. Two capped, used syringes plus a bloody rag landed on the floor next to the wallets.
"Why you . . " came Scott's guttural growl as he finally lost it, launching himself at the dark haired, apparent leader. It took the combined efforts of Virgil and Gordon to keep him from beating the man to a pulp.
"Scott, knock it off! We have to go! Dad and the FBI will be here any minute," Virgil urged quietly, but with an intensity that managed to reach his still enraged brother.
Shaking off their arms, Scott took a deep breath and nodded. Without a look back, he headed for the door, Virgil and Gordon trailing behind him. As they left on the hover sleds, they heard the sounds of helijets in the distance. Just in time.
Back at Thunderbird One, the subdued brothers shucked off their helmets and gloves. A frustrated Virgil ran his hand through his hair.
"If they escaped, they should be around here. Why didn't they come out? Or call?" he finished in undeniable worry.
"And what was the stuff they were shot up with?" Gordon added.
Scott was in the process of doing a quick computer scan. "Nobody matching John's or Alan's bio scan anywhere in the vicinity."
"Where the hell are they?" Gordon growled in frustration. "Are you sure that guy wasn't right? That they actually did recapture them?"
"I'm sure." Scott's voice was ice cold and just as firm. Virgil and Gordon looked at him for a moment, then looked away. They didn't doubt him.
"We'd better get to the rendezvous point," Virgil said, depressed.
Gordon felt the same way, as Scott lifted off in silence. He didn't look forward to informing their father that John and Alan were sill missing.