I'm sorry this is a bit late - this past week has been a bit of a nightmare. Thanks to Loopstagirl for looking over this for me - it's been hard enough to form a coherent sentence some days, let alone put a chapter together!

Chapter Seven

The man who spent so long planning every last detail of this operation had witnessed the attack via the cameras attached to his men's overalls. He'd chuckled gleefully as he'd watched - until the decision was made to leave Jeff Tracy behind. At that point he'd sworn colourfully for a good few minutes, slamming his hand down hard on his thigh - instantly regretting it and the bruise he'd been left with - knowing he'd be in for it once the others found out. Of course, the switch hadn't been his fault. He'd make sure Quinn answered for it - although he'd hate to lose his able assistant.

Sure enough, once he'd been forced to admit to only partial success, he'd found himself on the receiving end of a lengthy and vitriolic tirade. It had been a relief to end the call with the excuse that the captives would be arriving at any moment. Activating the set of jamming devices he'd had put in just in case the infamous Lady Penelope or the head of MI5 should have any secret transmitters hidden on them - the various vehicles the six captives had been transported in had been similarly equipped - he relaxed, knowing he was safe from any further fallout - for a while at least.

Once his unconscious guests had been laid unceremoniously on the floor of the room where they'd be kept for the next few days he sent his men upstairs, turning to the one who remained and shaking his head, tutting theatrically as he did so.

"They were none too happy to learn about the substitution, Quinn," he said.

"No choice," Quinn retorted. "Unless you wanted a corpse on your hands."

"It wouldn't have come to that," came the answer. "Tracy's okay - I've been watching the news. He's in the hospital, but not in any danger, apparently. None of the sick ones are, it seems."

"Well then. Success all round. They'll still get their money - this one's worth millions too. You didn't want to risk anyone being permanently damaged, did you?"

"It's the damage to us I'm most concerned about," the first man replied. "These people don't take failure lightly. They wanted Tracy. Although his son would have done just as well, it seems."

"You didn't tell me that."

"I didn't know it myself!" He shrugged. "Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that I'm not getting the whole story. Heaven knows what they want with their people." He waved a hand in the direction of several of the captives.

"If they're that set on Tracy I could hit the hospital," Quinn said thoughtfully. "For a price..."

The first man considered this for a moment then shook his head. "With police guards? Not to mention the press swarming round the place? Too risky. No, we'll stick with what we've got and see what they say later."

"So what now?"

"How long does the antidote take to work? Twenty minutes?"

"About that."

"Time enough for me to get ready." The man's eyes were suddenly glittering with anticipation. He clapped Quinn on the back. "Off you go then; bring them round."

As Quinn did as he was told, the other man watched. When all the injections had been administered, he smiled, pulling his accomplice out of the room and taking one last appreciative look at his handiwork.

"Showtime," he murmured before closing the door, leaving Quinn to ensure that all five locks and bolts were engaged.

By the time the kidnap victims began to stir, he'd finished his preparations and had settled himself comfortably in an armchair pulled up to a large TV screen. The camera feed from the room where the captives were held was working perfectly. One way, of course. He could see and hear everything the group did - they'd be monitored throughout their stay with him. It should be entertaining, he thought, watching them do their best to find some means of escape. An impossible task, as they'd soon find out, though he didn't think that would stop some of them trying. They'd only be able to hear him, of course. A pity in some respects, he thought, glancing across at his reflection in the large mirror he'd asked Quinn to put up. Perfect, he thought. He was about to give the performance of his life, and for that, everything had to be right - the clothes, the voice, the words themselves... Of course, tonight he couldn't possibly fail to hold his audience's attention: the ultimate in captive audiences Quinn had called them. They'd certainly be hanging on his every word, poor things, desperate to find out if they would live or die. Well, he couldn't answer that - he simply didn't know in some cases. But that didn't matter right now. What mattered was that he put on a good show.

He might be in line for enormous riches, not to mention power and influence beyond anything he'd ever imagined, but that was only of secondary importance. Tonight he was going to redeem himself for the humiliations of the past. Straightening his tie and pulling the handkerchief in his suit jacket up just a touch, ignoring the rolling of Quinn's eyes as he did so, he closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply, slipping into role and readying himself for what was to come.

Downstairs, in what had originally been a cellar, the kidnap victims began to stir. Like the rest of the wedding guests a few hours earlier, they didn't feel all that good for a while, but they were at least alert enough to take stock of their situation and to express their disbelief at the fact that, under the noses of MI5, they'd been spirited away to who-knew-where. Irving Ross, the head of MI5, kept his cool as he was berated by the man who had been taken in Jeff Tracy's place, doing his best to reassure him that they'd soon be found then suggesting that instead of complaining, he joined Simon and Prince Louis in looking around to see if there was any means of escape.

The Archbishop of Canterbury ignored them all, sitting in an armchair with his eyes closed, apparently deep in prayer. Nobody disturbed him, thinking they could probably do with all the help they could get right now.

As for Penny, well she couldn't help feeling more than a little ridiculous. In Westminster Abbey, gliding up the aisle, she'd felt perfectly at ease, the epitome of the English aristocrat entering into a fine marriage, the centre of attention, dressed as extravagantly as befitted the occasion.

Now though, the five metre long train she'd been so delighted with just got in the way. She'd considered tearing it off, but, despite the severity of the situation, she couldn't quite bring herself to do it. Not when the lace was practically antique, taken from the dress her own great-grandmother had worn over a century earlier. Anyway, she reasoned, even if she did manage to remove it, there was still the huge skirt to deal with - she barely had room to manoeuvre around the cramped room - and there wasn't a thing she could do about that. Those weren't her only concerns. The bones of the corset were beginning to dig into her, and, on top of everything else, she was cold. The room was chilly, that was for sure, the jacket Simon had placed around her shoulders failing to do much to alleviate her discomfort.

She hated wearing the wrong clothes for any occasion. Not even in the privacy of her own mansion would she allow herself to be any less than immaculately dressed. It had been ingrained in her ever since she was a child: the right clothes at the right time, every second of every day - and, if they were a designer label, then so much the better. The Chanel suit she'd bought to wear as a going away outfit would have been far more practical...

She shook herself - what was she thinking? Now really wasn't the time to worry about fashion. This was why she'd been right to get out of the espionage game - she simply wasn't up to it any more. She'd lost her focus, her nerve. In fact, right now, she was scared. Maybe she was in shock? She still couldn't quite believe this had happened. To spirit a bride away on her wedding day! It was unheard of - and Penny knew far more about this kind of thing than 99.9% of the wedding guests. It was something she'd never wanted to experience again.

At least they'd had the courtesy to wait until after the ceremony, she thought. She just wished they'd left Simon behind - he didn't deserve any of this. As she looked over at him, a wave of affection swept over her. It came as something of a surprise and suddenly, although she couldn't help feeling just a little guilty, she was actually glad he was there. Not that she wanted him to be in danger, but there was something calm and comforting about his presence - from the moment he'd awoken his only concern had been for her - and she thought once more that she'd been right to choose him and turn her back on her old way of life.

It was a pity her old way of life hadn't finished with her...

She wondered what was happening at the Abbey. Presumably the guests would have been allowed home by now. She had no idea of the time: there were no windows in the room - electric lights gave the only illumination - and no clocks either. All watches, phones and other devices had been taken away from them - but she guessed from the fact that she was feeling half-starved, that it must be late evening. She'd had no breakfast, not wanting anything to spoil the line of her dress, and she'd been looking forward to the wedding feast. She'd hated the thought of cutting the cake - not only was it horrifically calorie-laden, but it was a work of art in itself and even Virgil had admitted that he'd rather draw it than eat it, something unheard of for the cake-loving Tracy - but right now she'd happily gorge herself on it. She just hoped her captors decided to feed them.

All she could do right now was sit - well, perch somewhat precariously - on one of the chairs and wait to see if any of the others found anything of importance. She didn't think much of their chances, if she was honest - this was clearly a well-planned operation and their captors were undoubtedly far too clever to leave any clues, or anything which might aid in an escape attempt. Sure enough, judging by the ever-more frequents grunts of exasperation from the men, it appeared their search continued to be fruitless.

She'd expected the bad-tempered businessman, a friend of Simon's family and not someone she'd particularly liked on the brief occasions she'd spent in his company, to be the first to admit defeat, so it was a surprise when Irving Ross came to sit beside her.

"I'm guessing this isn't quite how you expected your wedding to go?" he said, his voice little more than a whisper.

Penny smiled ruefully. "I suppose I should have known things wouldn't go according to plan. After all, I do seem to attract trouble. But I really thought I'd left all that behind me."

"I take it you never got around to telling Lord Simon about your activities?"

"No. I wish I had." Then all Penny's fears came rushing out. "Irving, what if this is a plot to get to me? I could have put Simon in danger. I should have told him. He had the right to know what he was getting into when he married me."

"Perhaps," Irving agreed. "Though it's a little late to be thinking that way now, don't you think? Penny, if this was all to do with you - or with MI5 for that matter - then why take the Archbishop and a Prince? Or Mantle, for that matter? I mean, no disrespect to the man - he's rich, I know - but he's hardly a renowned figure of the establishment. They could have taken the Home Secretary, or the Chancellor, but they left them behind. Unless there are more of us hidden somewhere, of course... No, there's a lot more to this. I just hope our hosts don't keep us in suspense for too long."

Penny nodded. "I suppose you're right. I just wish they'd left Simon behind."

Irving was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, it was in an even softer tone.

"Some of our other friends were at the ceremony, I noticed. I was looking forward to speaking to them later."

Penny managed a smile. "Yes. You know, they'll be involved in the search for us too. There'll be no stopping them."

"Indeed. Between them and my lot we've got the best possible chance of getting out of this." He rose to his feet. "Cheer up, Penny. This will soon be over and you can get started on your honeymoon."

Penny was about to reply when a sudden crackle of static made everyone jump.

"Good evening," a slow, rich voice said, every vowel and consonant perfectly enunciated. "Perhaps you would all be so kind as to take a seat at the table. I have a few things to say to you, so why not make yourselves comfortable."

"I've heard that voice before," Irving said, irritation clear on his features as he strove to remember where and when.

"Indeed you have," the voice told him. "Now hurry up, everyone. Just as soon as you're all seated - yes, I'm afraid you are being watched, though I'm sure you already anticipated that - I'll begin."

It took a minute for everyone to settle themselves around the table. Simon reached for Penny's hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

Then the voice spoke again.

"All comfortable? Excellent. Now then, my name is Sebastian Swayne." There followed what the man clearly intended to be a dramatic pause.

There was a mixed reaction to this announcement. Irving's expression morphed from one of thankfulness that he'd finally been able to put a name to the voice he'd recognised, to one of utter bewilderment. The Archbishop and Penny wore the same expression, although Simon, Prince Louis and Ken Mantle were clearly none the wiser. But one thing they were all united in thinking, although no one actually said anything, was that for the man to freely give his identity away meant that it was unlikely any of them would be left alive to relay that information to the authorities...

Sebastian Swayne continued before anyone could say anything.

"Firstly, allow me to apologise for the inconvenience. I know this is not the way any of you would prefer to be spending the evening. Especially the happy couple. However, I assure you that some of you will be returning to your normal lives as soon as possible. Just a momentary inconvenience, but -"

"This is outrageous!" Ken Mantle shouted, rising to his feet and bumping against the table so that a jug of water which had been placed there spilled all over it.

"Oh dear. You'll need to clear that up yourself, I'm afraid. No maid service in this residence. I'm sorry the surroundings are rather less luxurious than you're all used to. However, as I'm sure you can appreciate, security has to take priority over comfort right now."

"He's mad," Simon muttered to Penny. "Completely mad."

"Do you mind!" The voice sounded well and truly offended. "Completely sane, thank you very much. This is a very well-thought out plan. Been working on it for months now. I'm sure you'll agree I should be commended for my efforts. Such a distinguished group of guests... I take it you all know each other? Prince Louis - I'm really not worthy. Mr Irving, the much-respected head of MI5, for those of you who don't know. It's nice to meet you again, Sir. The Archbishop of Canterbury - such an honour, Your Grace, I do hope Sunday services won't be too badly affected by all of this. Lord Warrington-Farr and his beautiful bride. And... I'm sorry, Sir, I don't have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

Mantle blinked in utter bewilderment before exploding again.

"You don't know who I am? You kidnapped me! Drugged me! You're going to fleece my family, my company, for millions and yet you don't know my name?"

"No need to shout, the microphones will pick up the faintest of noises, I assure you. I really must apologise most profusely to you, Sir. You, it seems, are a late substitution. My assistants were supposed to bring another gentleman along, but unfortunately he reacted rather badly to the knock-out gas. If you'd be so good as to give me your name I'm sure I'll be overwhelmed with admiration."

"Kenneth Mantle," the man spluttered.

There was a pause. The captives could almost hear the other man turning the name around in his mind.

"Mantle... Mantle... No, I'm so sorry, you'll have to enlighten me."

"Founder of Mantle Enterprises."

"Oh, how lovely... But I'm afraid I'm still none the wiser."

"Hotels, race courses and casinos!" Mantle snapped.

"Ah, a gambling man. Well, the odds are stacked in my favour right now, don't you think? Why don't you make yourselves comfortable and- I'm sorry, what was that Lady Penelope? Or is it Mrs Warrington-Farr? Please let me know what title you prefer. I may be a somewhat unorthodox host, but I do pride myself on my manners."

"I said: the odds may be in your favour right now, but that will soon change," Penny informed him. "You must realise people are looking for you. MI5 won't stop until they track you down."

The man laughed. "Oh, but where will they look? And what will they find? I'm sure I can divert attention away from myself in the unlikely event my involvement is suspected. And if I can't, well, I'll have good company in jail. Don't you think, Lady Penelope? Your chauffeur is such an entertaining gentleman. A little rough around the edges, perhaps, but none the less, a very good man to know."

"Parker?" Penny looked utterly lost.

"That's him! Oh, you look confused. Poor thing, it's been quite the day for you, hasn't it? Let me put you out of your misery. Take a look at the TV screen, if you will."

And so Penny watched as the man she trusted most in the world - more than Simon, Jeff, or even Scott Tracy - betrayed her.

"You see, my dear," the voice broke into the silence which followed, even Ken Mantle left speechless. "I really don't think I have much to fear from the likes of MI5. Now then, if you will all excuse me, I do have rather a lot on my plate at the moment. I'll leave you all in peace. I suggest you take full advantage of my hospitality - my men will bring you some food later - and I'll check in again with you all in the morning. So sorry about ruining your wedding night Lady Penelope, Lord Simon. Goodnight, everyone."

There was silence for a moment, then, to everyone's surprise, the Archbishop burst out laughing. "Oh dear," he chuckled, wiping a tear away from his eye. "So that's what we're dealing with?"

No one else seemed to find the situation remotely amusing. As Mantle and Prince Louis demanded to know more about their captor, Simon, despite his desire to learn more himself, turned his back on them and put a comforting arm around Penny. "Are you alright?" he asked. "Look, what Parker did... I know he's been with you for years, but you had to accept you were taking a risk employing a man like that. Perhaps he-"

Penny jumped to her feet, shaking Simon off angrily. "Don't say that! You don't know Parker. You don't know anything!"

"What do you mean?"

Penny stared at him for a moment, then sank down into her seat once again. "Nothing. I'm sorry. It's been a... distressing day. I don't know what I'm saying." She caught Irving Ross's eye and shook her head almost imperceptibly. This was all too much. Why should Parker have helped in her abduction? What had those people done to him? There was no way he'd do anything to hurt her. No amount of money would have convinced him to get involved, and surely he'd have told her the moment he'd had even the slightest hint of any plot against her. Something terrible must have happened for him to do what he'd done, and the prospect of any harm coming to the chauffeur terrified her.

Simon fell silent, but some of the other members of the kidnap party had no hesitation in condemning the betrayal of Lady Penelope by her hitherto faithful servant, even the Archbishop moved to make some distinctly un-Christian comments about the man. Penny didn't have the energy to argue, not after a tentative attempt to stop Ken Mantle when he was in mid-flow had resulted in an ever greater burst of invective, to the point where Simon, usually the most mild-mannered of men, had actually risen to his feet and told the man to shut up. Only the intervention of Prince Louis had prevented things getting out of hand. Mantle retreated to one of the beds in the corner of the room, turning his back on the others as he lay down, muttering that all this stress wasn't good for him, that he had a heart condition and the slightest agitation could be the end of him. No one had much sympathy, Simon murmuring that the man had a reputation for being something of a hypochondriac, taking full advantage of the premium private healthcare he enjoyed, his home apparently containing something akin to a full-scale hospital. Ridiculous, really, he commented, leaving Penny to wonder what he'd have made of the medical facilities on Tracy Island.

That led back to thoughts of Scott and the rest of the Tracys and she wondered whether they were making any progress in locating her. The thought comforted her - a welcome distraction from her agonising over Parker. John would be working his magic on his computer, searching for the tiniest of clues, whilst Scott would be pacing up and down and swearing vengeance. Then there was Virgil, who, if he'd managed to disentangle himself from his would-be girlfriends, would be trying to keep everyone calm, saving his energy for the moment he'd need to leap into action. Gordon, Alan, even Brains, they'd all be on the case.

Everything was going to be fine. International Rescue, ably led by Scott, would come and rescue her, just like they always did.

She had no way of knowing that right now, Scott was almost as much in need of saving as she was.