As always, thanks to everyone who responded to the last chapter, especially Whirlgirl, who I can't reply to personally.
Chapter Six
Virgil closed his eyes, counted to ten, then, for at least the hundredth time, informed his father that there was no way he was going to be leaving the hospital any time soon. Jeff Tracy was a horrible patient, as the nursing staff had soon found out - they weren't to know, but it was clear where the man's sons had got their own stubborn natures from. The nurses had soon delegated the task of keeping him in his bed to Virgil, and the younger man was tired, fed-up and hungry. He'd been at the hospital for six hours now, and he wasn't sure what had been worse - the three hours he'd spent waiting for news on his father, or the three interminable hours which had passed since the man had properly woken up.
"Dad, you look terrible," he said. "You're obviously still feeling the effects of that gas. Why don't you try to sleep it off? Please... Give me a bit of peace?"
Jeff just grunted irritably. "Sleep? After what's happened today? Put the TV back on, Virgil, I want to see what's on the news."
"You know Alan would have told us if there was anything new," Virgil pointed out, though he did as his father asked, mainly because the best view of the screen came from the bed and it might keep the man in place for a while.
Sure enough there were no further developments. On the BBC, a reporter - unable to hide her expression of delight at this absolute gift of a story - stood outside Westminster Abbey, interviewing a couple of choirboys, whilst on another channel, a couple of experts gave their views on the event, speculating wildly as to why someone would have kidnapped the bride, the groom and a lowly chauffeur along with the high-ups of church, state and business.
Jeff wondered once again if he should pass on the information he possessed. Like his sons and his mother, he was utterly confused - he'd thought he might have been delirious when Virgil had first told him all about the attack. Even when he'd watched the footage he hadn't quite been able to believe it. If his head hadn't been aching before, it certainly was after that.
Parker...
The man wasn't under any suspicion right now He'd been listed as a victim along with the others and although one or two news channels had touched upon his criminal past, wondering why a woman like Lady Penelope would have employed him, no one thought for a minute that he'd been in any way involved. In fact, he was usually only mentioned as an afterthought, there being far more important and interesting personalities involved. No, Jeff thought, he couldn't give his friend away, not without knowing more. Just a few more hours. He owed Parker that much. If there was no news by morning, then he'd alert the authorities.
But that in itself was a problem. Irving Ross, the head of MI5, was his only contact apart from Penny, and he was one of those who'd been taken. Jeff had initially wondered if this whole thing was something to do with International Rescue, but then Virgil had pointed out that the Archbishop of Canterbury and the third in line to the throne had no links with their organisation. Nor did the random businessman who'd been taken in his place. Jeff had had to accept the truth of this. It made him feel a little better - mentally, at least. Physically, he still felt dreadful. In reality he'd like nothing more than to sleep it all off, but he refused to give in.
"Coffee?" he asked hopefully.
"The doctor said you should stick to water," Virgil reminded him. Then, to forestall the rant he knew he'd just triggered, he got to his feet. "I'll go and see if he's changed his mind."
"Call Alan while you're at it," Jeff instructed. "See if he's heard anything."
"He'd have told us if he had," Virgil said, but he agreed anyway - anything for a break from the small, overheated room. He didn't blame his father for wanting to get out.
Leaving the room, he asked a passing nurse to take over babysitting duty whilst he got a coffee for himself - heaven knew he needed it - and put in a call to Base. The woman was only partially appeased by the charming smile he offered her, visibly bracing herself for the ordeal of dealing with a grumpy and obstinate multi-billionaire who didn't like being told 'no'. She actually contemplated calling for assistance from one of the police guards who stood at the end of the corridor, but they were needed to protect all seven of the wedding guests who'd been brought in. Not from kidnappers, but from reporters. They'd been besieged for the past hour and a half since the news had broken and the press had discovered where the victims of the gas had been taken. One journalist had already disguised himself as a doctor in an attempt to get to the patients, and she was sure he wouldn't be the last.
Virgil got his coffee then made his way outside, making sure he was completely alone before contacting Alan.
"You okay?" his brother asked. "You look tired."
"Yeah. You know how Dad is when he's sick. I could do with reinforcements to be honest. How's Scott getting on with the repairs?"
"Ah..."
Virgil might have been tired, but the significance of Alan's shifty look wasn't lost on him. "Alan? What's going on?"
"Well... we didn't tell you earlier - didn't want to worry you, not when you had Dad to think about-"
"Alan? Stop rambling and tell me what's happened."
"Scott's flying in on a nuclear-powered jet pack."
"He's what? That's suicide."
"No, really, he's doing fine. He's over two-thirds of the way there. Brains is quite impressed, actually. I hope it hasn't given him ideas - doesn't sound like the most fun Scott's ever had, but then the weather's not that brilliant."
"Terrific," Virgil glowered.
"What's wrong? I thought you'd be glad to have Scott on hand."
"I am. At least, I will be once he's actually here. But what am I supposed to tell Dad?"
"Yeah... Good luck."
Sure enough, Jeff Tracy didn't take the news well.
"Of all the stupid things to do! What was he thinking? I mean, I'd expect that sort of thing from Alan or Gordon. Even you. But Scott? He's supposed to be the sensible one."
"Thanks," Virgil said drily.
Jeff made to get up, then thought better of it as his head began to spin again. It was all too much and he sank back against the pillows.
"Turn that off!" he snapped, flipping his hand in the direction of the TV screen.
Virgil did as he asked, then sat back down, wearily massaging his temples.
Jeff was suddenly too tired to be angry. "Get some sleep, son," he said, his tone far gentler than it had been since he'd woken up.
Virgil looked up at him in surprise. "What?"
"Go back to the hotel. You look exhausted and you'll need to be on top form tomorrow."
"I will?"
Jeff smiled. "Well I'm sure once you and Scott get together you'll come up with some kind of crazy plan, and since Scott has already set the bar for insanity on this one, I hate to think what mess the pair of you will get yourselves into."
"You're assuming there's going to be something for us to do," Virgil reminded him, deciding to ignore the insult. He knew it wouldn't be an argument he had a hope of winning, anyway.
"There will be," Jeff assured him. "Those kidnappers will have to make their move soon. Otherwise what's the point of all this?"
"Guess so." Virgil didn't move though, so Jeff repeated his instruction.
"Virgil, go away."
"So you can make a run for it the moment I'm out of here?" Virgil shook his head. "Not happening, Dad."
Jeff rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Fine. I give you my word I won't move out of this bed until the doctor says I can. Okay?"
Virgil looked at his father in surprise. He could see both his hands, so there were no crossed fingers to worry about. Not that his father was likely to do something so underhand anyway. He didn't give his word lightly, and when he did, he meant what he said.
"Promise?" Virgil couldn't quite bring himself to walk away without making absolutely sure.
"I promise." Jeff's teeth might have been gritted and his expression might have been one of sheer frustration, but he clearly meant it.
Virgil got up, stretched and yawned. "Okay. It's been a long day. Guess I could use some sleep."
As he got to the door, he hesitated.
"What now?" Jeff asked. Truth be told, he could barely keep his eyes open himself.
"Just glad they didn't take you too," Virgil said softly. "I mean, you may be a cantankerous old ... Well, anyway, I suppose we'd miss you if you weren't around."
"Why you..." Jeff tried to look affronted but couldn't help laughing. "I'm not going anywhere, Virgil. Leave you boys to run things by yourselves? I don't think so."
Virgil laughed too, then left the room - returning two minutes later to raid his father's wallet for the cab fare. Jeff had already fallen asleep and Virgil watched him for a long moment, wondering what he would have done if the gas hadn't thwarted the kidnappers' original plans. It wasn't a pleasant thought and in some ways it was a relief to turn his thoughts to his oldest brother and best friend. Now that was something else to worry about...
If you'd asked him, Scott Tracy would have said that there was no such thing as a bad way to fly. He should know: he'd flown pretty much every type of craft, from run-down single-engine crop sprayers right through to rockets, and he'd found something to appreciate in each and every one of them. But right now, fighting against the wind and rain and propelling himself at a much lower altitude than he was truly comfortable with (he was actually feeling seasick at the moment, ten metres or so above the roiling waves) he couldn't help wishing they'd thought to stick a boat on the new base. No forward planning, he mused. But then, who would ever have thought that he'd be in this situation in the first place?
Just another hundred miles to go, he told himself. He'd soon be back over land. He'd have to gain height to avoid being spotted, but with darkness beginning to fall, his chances of reaching London undetected seemed increasingly good. What he was actually going to do once he reached the city he wasn't quite sure. The hospital, he supposed. Alan was keeping him updated on their father's condition and whilst it was improving, the man still wasn't fit to be discharged. What was going to come of that, he didn't know, but at least his dad and Virgil were safe. As for Penny and the others, well, he could only hope.
Then Alan came in with an urgent demand for him to change course.
"I've located Parker!"
"Where? How?"
"Some pub in the East End - the Dog and Duck. I was monitoring all transmissions and Five picked up his voice pattern in a phone call. Apparently he's throwing a party..."
"He's what?"
"Makes no sense to me, either," Alan admitted. "There's been no mention of Penny or the others. Maybe they're all there. You need to go and see what's going on. I'd ask Virg but he looked exhausted when I spoke to him a while ago."
Scott agreed this was the best course of action. "But what if Parker's gone by the time I get there? Maybe he's just establishing some kind of alibi."
"Bit late for that," Alan pointed out. "He really does seem to be celebrating, Scott - though what exactly is debatable. He's made at least ten calls to friends of his. I checked them out - a whole load of ex-cons well as a few members of his family, which probably explains why nobody's called the police. I really think he's set for the night."
"Okay. Send me the coordinates - and find me somewhere to land."
As Scott finally reached the British coastline, a small van branded with the logo of a popular supermarket chain pulled to a halt outside a run-down farmhouse in the Kent countryside. A man was waiting for them and instructions were quickly given. Moments later the van doors were pulled open, but instead of groceries, six unconscious figures were taken out. The gas had long since worn off, but they'd been injected twice with anaesthetic during the various changeovers of vehicle which had ensured they wouldn't be tracked to their final destination. It took less than ten minutes for the group to be carried downstairs to the rooms which were to be their home for the next few days. Some would be released unharmed. Others however... well, they probably wouldn't be quite so lucky. The man who had watched without making any effort to help had a very particular agenda. He knew everyone, including the men he'd employed to carry out the attack, would assume it was all about money and he couldn't help laughing at the thought. If only they knew the truth! Well, they soon would - or at least some of it...
But this wasn't just his operation. He wasn't sure what his partners had in mind for their captives - and if he was honest, he didn't really think he wanted to know.